Soup

It was at the airport,

I had just purchased a hearty

Soup and sandwich and sat

Down by a seemingly quiet seat

Next to an older couple with

A promise of stoic dignity;

Instead, the man told about his hopes

Of getting a job, riding on

An email expressing vague interest;

"What should I reply," he said?

As he kept untangling and dissecting

Then tangling again, every nuance

And nuisance of each potential word,

"They say desperation is the worst cologne,"

He offered, in quiet acknowledgment;

The woman just sat there like

A muted channel, with only

Vague platitudes, barely filtering through;

I had to stand up and finish my soup

Elsewhere. Stung, I could not bear to hear

What all of us were born to fear

That rejection is shame and whether

You dish it out or receive it:

It is disgusting and cruel.

So, like the countess who ordered

The beggar to be removed

'fore she crossed the scenic bridge,

Lest her guilt move her to

Dangerous places; l left them,

Then and there.