Soir Bleu Solitaire

I went to the crowded café,

Attracted to the lanterns

Dangling against the blue.

I was dressed in my finest:

Silly, willy white.

Hair and makeup conspicuous.

Yet still more muted than

The olive-clad rouge-abuser.

My presence longed to fit.

So I mimicked the distant beret,

Held a cigarette

Between my lips,

And waited for a light.

But I had sat at a table

With patrons blinded

By self-awareness and introspection

Separated by pirate hats and epaulettes.

I thought perhaps

The man on my left

With his well-to-do formality

Could hold his inquisitive gaze,

While his sheet-dressed date

Downed another glass,

And stare a flame into existence.

Then I would have finally

Had some company.