It is a seldom scene, visually rapacious
Unnerving the blossoms with the shrug of a breeze
While the wait staff blithely serves

Don’t tell me how it feels
During intermittent blizzards
Alternating years

The box is not empty, but evasive
Rendering in three dimensions
An undefined idea:  condiments

Peeled on a floral pattern plate
An orange swells with distant nakedness
Still life, expectant  

Across the street a hawk blurs briefly   
Dangling a young rat skyward from the gutter
I order vegetarian

There are fish in a tank inside, people outside
Displacing atmosphere with forward ambulation
Ripples of passage

My fork is alone in my hand, poised
Red cabbage and green peas lounging on the quinoa
An opinionated scallion

My flower is replaced, thrust into the little vase
The condiment box slightly disturbed
I divine that it’s time to leave

I position a few dollars on the table
Tucked into Being and Nothingness
Even as I

-- Tom Rubenoff