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A glass held tightly to his complacent lips
moving backwards
forwards
to and fro
finger to finger
between words
cheekbones filled a smile upon his face
he sat back
laughing
looking through the riddle
the rhyme
the fasçade
leaning into the smooth wooden center
glancing over a shoulder through a window
to a road
a street

Back inside
hair brushed aside confronting one jaw
teeth created that brilliant smile
upon which I played on
for a while
a café
a table
two people
faces
staring
moving
eyes
a waitress
yet there he sat
sugar
two spoons