The Date
Eight o’clock under the railway clock, she said.
I had bought flowers only because mother said
it was the right thing to do.
Nine o’clock, drizzle, flowers wet I felt daft, and
was hungry too. Threw flowers into a bin walked
to the restaurant; our table, still free. I had steak
with salad, potatoes and a bottle of red wine.
I had been stood up, but looked cool, I often go
out for a meal alone so what’s the big deal?
My date, Sandra, showed up at eleven and out of
breath, train delayed. Now the kitchen had closed,
but she got a bag of crisp.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
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