I said, dismissing the Chinese restaurant
with its torn menus, plastic forks
and a lavish selection of beverages:
water or cola.
Easy to be glib,
to reach for a smart remark
after a twenty-minute visit,
without thinking how a place
is more than walls and paint;
how, if we had chosen the other road,
we might have met every Tuesday evening
and held hands across a greasy table.
(First published in The Fourth River)
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