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Love is Cruel
The bell chimes,
A new customer.
A lone man,
Fairley well dressed,
Sitting alone across the counter
From the other customers.
With a tired sigh,
And a slight wave of his hand,
He orders the usual.
He often finds himself here
On nights like this.
When his wife is bad,
And he can’t find any comfort
In sleep.
“She gets sicker every day”
The bartender nods solemly,
Setting down french toast and chocolate milk.
Her Favourite.
The man takes the food,
And slowly makes his way out.
They all know he’ll be back the next night.
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This poem was for an art meditation, inspired by the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper.