At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.
I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.