Reserved
Everything was anodyne
Everything was in
Beiges
Peaches
Light browns
And
The air
Was Odourless
Unmoving
The place invited
No thoughts
Or passions
I took a seat
At a table
With a Reserved sign
Quietly yet loudly
Sitting confidently
Atop it
I had with me a book
A small one
One I had read more
Than once
More than one
Hundred times
And had
Made longer
And different
With a blue ink
Pen
I carried, always
In my pocket
A waiter
As friendly
And anodyne
As his place of work
Inevitably came
And asked me
Still all friendly
Like
Could I please
Move tables
As this particular table was
Clearly Reserved
I politely responded that
No
I could not in fact move
But that I would offer
No protest
If those that had Reserved the
Table
Wished to join me
The waiter smiled
A bland smile
And guided a young couple
To where I sat
They ate in silence
Food with no colour
Or flavour
And left
Without addressing me
With their eyes
Or tongues
And still
The Reserved sign stayed
And still I stayed
My book
Not so small now
Growing
My pens ink
Thinning
In need of renewal
But I would never
Need to
Change the cartridge
It would never run dry
A family this time
Supercilious parents
Bratty sprigs
Noisy
Devoid of charm
They too ate and
Left
They too
Paid me no
Heed
My formerly little
Book
Bulged at its
Binds then
Wished to spill its words
Out
Into the world
I held it tight
Keeping what was in
Within
A woman
Not young, not old
Sat
And looking right at me
I Reserved this table
She said
It’s my table
Now
She was a little
Confused
And a little
Annoyed
I know you did
I replied
I know you did
Because
It says so
Right here
In my little book
© Liam Power 2021