Out of habit

I asked to be shown

To a table for two.

Her absence plonks down on the chair

Making a firm impression upon the cushion.

I order two coffees instead of one.

But knowing such slips of mind and tongue

Endeared me to her once

I don’t take the trouble of correcting myself.

Her invisible fingers entwine around

My more visible ones.

I clear my throat

To ask her how she’s been

These last seven years.

The lights have already dimmed

And even the waiters are fidgeting

Behind the counters

Expecting me to wind up any moment.

Her absence,

Transparent, translucent

And heavier than the average

Density of bad news