It was the middle of winter, <br />the middle of the night. <br />We were sitting in a diner together, <br />engaged in small talk. <br /> <br />I was picking at my meal, <br />more moving the food around with my fork <br />than actually eating. <br /> <br />I'd ordered a rather plentiful plate <br />knowing that the chances of me finishing <br />were slimmer than the chances of me winning the lottery. <br /> <br />In an attempt to avoid eye contact <br />with my partner in conversation, <br />I focused on an older man <br />who sat alone in a corner booth. <br /> <br />His clothes were ragged, <br />hair all a mess. <br />I noticed a large knapsack <br />on the seat next to him. <br /> <br />He'd devoured every morsel <br />of his hot ham and cheese, <br />taking tiny bites <br />and chewing slowly. <br /> <br />As the server passed him by <br />carrying a slice of cheesecake to our table, <br />his eyes lit up and <br />his dark pupils followed it. <br /> <br />I knew then what I should've done. <br />I knew that man deserved desert <br />much more than myself. <br />I took a bite of my cheesecake <br />and walked out to my car... <br /> <br />Strange how the story goes sometimes: <br />Now we sit here, in our reserved corner booth, <br />and the waiter suggests their famous cheesecake <br />with a complete sentence for name. <br />I'll order it as you ask the Valet to bring the car. <br /> <br />I suppose some things never change.<br /><br />Amanda Lukas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/confessions-over-a-slice-of-rasberry-truffle-cheesecake/
