(Published at The Writers Club)
Time fell through the cracks of despair,
waiting for a fucking date; she’s late.
It was the lines to my dating life’s story;
I tap my fingers along the table’s edge.
Patrons whisper in my direction
among themselves; I can read
their minds with callous eyes.
Confusion courses through my veins;
adrenaline twists my lips.
“You missed my text,” a voice says.
I lift my head. “Me?”
“I hit your Jeep in the parking lot.”
“Guess you gotta take me home.”
“Yeah… I guess I do.”
Twitter – @AC0040
(© 2023 AC.)