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Beth’s Café

by Richard Vince

It was dark, of course, even though
The night was one of the shortest.
Somehow, that became a theme:
Perhaps I wanted to squeeze every last
Drop of day from each 24 hours.

I did not, and do not, understand
Where we were: the bright lights of
A 358 cut an articulated dash
Through the scene, but all the map
Told me was that it was a long
Straight line from centre to edge,
Geographically implausible to my foreign eyes.

I did not, and do not, understand
What I ordered, or why I ordered it,
Or why the place was busy even in
The middle of the night.

We both fancied the waitress:
She was inadvertently a means
Of skipping around the latent chemistry,
A distraction from the way
Our hearts edged ever closer
To one another.

When we fondly recognised her
Somewhere else, everything was different
Even though nothing had changed.

Where could I take you that would
Be the same? All night table service
Is an American dream, not
A British reality, and anyway
I am too old for staying up so late.

Have enough years passed to allow
Room for forgiveness? Perhaps one day
I will be brave enough to
Find out; to apologise for all I could
Not admit to for so long; to be
A decent man by accepting finally
What a selfish boy I was.

01/19/2017

Posted on 02/04/2017
Copyright © 2020 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 02/05/17 at 01:41 AM

I wonder if many of us are really willing to formally acknowledge all those deeds we have done mostly because we see ourselves as being better than we are and want what we want 'just because' we wanted to do it! I like the write.

Posted by George Hoerner on 02/05/17 at 01:41 AM

I wonder if many of us are really willing to formally acknowledge all those deeds we have done mostly because we see ourselves as being better than we are and want what we want 'just because' we wanted to do it! I like the write.

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