On the Outside

by qazse

You never look
at me.
I often look
at you.

You have
those things
I am told
bring happiness.

I have
those things
I am told
bring shame.

I look into
your restaurant -

you spend
my week’s wages
in a night

so elegant
so white

table cloths
and candles
fine wine
and waiters.

I could go on
and on,

but I have been ordered
to move along…

2008

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