C o u p l e s

We look at the couples.
A woman is in uniform
Beige sari.
The man with a craggy head,
As if his face
Has been bashed in
Strange that it was done
By the Gods themselves.
Despite it,
He has a girl to call his own.

The other is a young woman,
Well dressed
According to my mother
Who had perhaps taken in her
Credentials
Even before I did.
Sitting in the restaurant with us
Next to her a man
Grey, balding, ordinary
Must have cash
I think to myself while he smokes
Ringlets
Into her straight hair.
She moves closer.

I smile knowingly
But I really don’t know anything.
It’s what my brain would like
To think,
Assume the worst.

We are a couple here as well
My mother and I
Time on our hands
Our frayed ends
Waiting to get wrapped up
In the restaurant
Which we visit
Loosening our purse strings
And our morals
Bit by bit.

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