I used to fall asleep in an in-between

“Booth 12” was its only proper name

and it was not special

in the common sense

 

But the cracks in the leather looked like my great grandfathers hands

Their scars told stories

Of years spent in a world too apathetic to apologize

 

The glare of the florescent light above me reflected the outside of a full moon

In the cheap shine of the seat

I never needed a night sky

 

Under the table rested the remains of a graphite heart

M + K,

It read

And I wondered if M knew he had fallen in love with K in an in-between

Somewhere that wasn’t a proper place,

No held together by duct tape

 

Restaurant booths are fickle things to get attached too

But I always hoped Booth 12

would exist  forever

just like M and K

But everyone disappears

No matter who loves them.