dining alone

you see a man
in the corner dining
alone,
his glasses on,
reading the paper.
his plate in front
of him, a napkin
in his lap, almost
as if he was in
his kitchen at home.
there is no
rush in his eating.
no hurry to his
hands.
he nods when the waitress
fills his cup
with coffee, then
moves away, she seems
to know him, his
routine. it's good
to have someone, when
alone, that seems
to understand.