beats me

why do these men disappear
she says out loud,
pondering a small bird
that has courageously
landed on the table
eyeing her cinnamon scone.
why do these men all
fly away after I give
them a bite of me,
not just a crumb, but
half or more of who
I am. she breaks off
a piece of her scone
and tosses it in the air.
the brown, thimble of
a bird flies off to find
it. what's wrong with
me, she says. can you
be honest and tell me
the truth, am I doing
something wrong, is it
how I look, my age,
my hair. why can't I
find a man and be done
with all of this dating?
I don't know, you tell her.
beats me. i'm going in
to have this coffee refilled,
can I get you anything?
another vanilla bean
frapaccino with extra whip?