with red and white plaid-encrusted arms;
creamed-coffee hands and cords of lounging licorice
dangling disks of gold dance down from ears to
Looking up to a table where a first date and I
argued over the pronunciation of pannier, which
her "French friends" would argue is "panyay"...
Returning my gaze, an empty chair
whence once sparkling eyes
and mine never met
and now never will.

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