“Dining Alone” by Karen George

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A man at the next table also dines alone.
Hair wiry white, skin shiny-thin,
eyes buried beneath lid folds.

He scans the room, hunting
for friends, or happy to be alive
one more day, even among strangers?

The way he takes small, careful bites
reminds me of how hard you tried
to eat at the end of your life.

When he spreads a thick layer
of butter on pumpkin bread,
his smile makes me want to weep.

-Karen George

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