The elderly man sitting in the booth across from my son
and me, dressed in a powder blue sport coat
and white pants, sitting facing no one,
gazes once in a while at the red leather empty seat
in front of him, and slowly works over fried rice and egg foo yung.
This is my son's favorite Chinese restaurant.
We've been coming here weekly his whole life.
It's getting darker outside; the man's table is next to the window.
He's dining with his reflection.
I look at my son and then over at the man,
who slightly angles his head off to the side after each bite.
I wonder how quiet it must be to finish each day
alone, the person you thought you'd be with till death did you part
David Colodney studies poetry in the MFA program at Converse College, and serves as Poetry Editor of the South85 literary magazine. He holds a Master's degree from Nova Southeastern University, and has written for The Miami Herald and The Tampa Tribune. David has recently been nominated for Best New Poets 2015, and his poetry has appeared in Shot Glass Journal, Night Owl, Egg, and in the New York School and Diaspora issue of Valley Voices. David lives in Boynton Beach, Florida with his wife, three sons, and golden retriever.