Eating Lunch

He shuffled towards our table
Grasping his plate with
Both hands, a figure lost
In the crowded market

Sitting down aside in front
Of me, he placed his plate
Down, then walked away only to
Return with a plastic-cupped drink

Then he began to eat
Wolfing mouthfuls of hard rice
Not once stopping, as though
His hands had a mind of their own

Keeping his head down, he continued
His almost frantic repertoire
As though he couldn’t wait to
Be done with his chore and leave

Yet, a reciprocating smile
When we made space for him
And again when we offered
Him tissue after his meal

Before he parted ways from
A brief encounter in this our lives.



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Filed under feelings, poetry, writing

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