“Two, please”
he had uttered the phrase
countless times
in so many places around town
squiring so many
different women

money never a problem
success, women
followed him all his life
joined him in misadventures
big, bigger – even bigger

a big tipper, gregarious
everyone liked to see him
his rotating cast of
companions, ever amusing,
keeping waiters, barkeeps
ever guessing as to his ‘type’
his only consistency being
his standard request
“Table for two, please.”

years passed
time took its toll
the world had changed
his kind were no longer the
‘go to’ for masculine
reference

he still haunted the same
places
knew some
of the same faces
still requested
“Table for two, please.”
though often as not
he dined alone

One night, a favorite
dinner spot, an old
friend having cancelled
“Table for two”
found him alone in his
duality
looking around, he
saw families,
tables full of
two, three generations

He ordered a cocktail
sat there, listened to
the din of
boisterous laughter
sons, daughters,
grandparents,
grandchildren

surrounded by a cacophony
he knew he
would never grasp
he just sat there, tightly
gripping, but not drinking
his drink
as tears rolled down
his face.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd