A lone glutton
Pinch corners of a menu
And migrate vision
From a laminated listing of food items
To scan patrons arranged in booths and tables.
An armchair voyeur
Interpreting body language
In lieu of silent lip animation.
Shall I praise the perseverance
Of a near whisper
Lugging the obese voices of men
Muffling verbs with a mouth-full of lunch break?
They discuss profits
I necessitate disgust
Piques in response
To a question about raises.
But I am partial to labor rights,
Living as a hopeless romantic
With a communist’s soul.
I read Robert Lowell’s poetry
For comfort and company
Waiting for my meal. He rejected
His suicidal hunger
To feast on privileged disparity.
I eat alone
I like the company.