A Clean, Well-Lighted Place with Wifi

As waiters glide across the room,
espresso steams beside my book
on the small, round table.
The low purl of conversations 
eddies around me, though most of us
stare down at screens and dream
of lives we’d rather lead. We flick
through galleries of smiles, through shots
of rocky coasts and mountains wreathed
in fog. We watch our siblings pose
in the snow of Central Park,
their families happy as a Christmas card.

And while our screens’ blue light
bathes our raptured faces,
the waiters make their silent rounds,
filling drinks and spiriting away
our empty plates. My server stops
and slides the bill beside my cup,
the folio a small black door
in the white tabletop. Soon,
I’ll rise and head for home
along deserted streets, the wind
like surf in the trees, the summer night
a hollow ache above me.