going on
with you she says to me
from
across the table, six
feet apart.
you try to pull off that
happy go lucky fellow,
but deep down inside
you're blue and introspective,
dark almost,
always in some
distant observation mood.
yup.
so what's your point, i ask
her, reaching
into her plate for a french
fry, then dipping the tip
into the blood red tub
of ketchup.
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