Coffee Morning

 

Front door ajar, no Jack Russell alarm,

their house has the uncanny air of a crime scene.

‘’Hello?’’

‘’We’re all in the living room!’’

Her casual text had suggested coffee and gossip at the kitchen table.

I put on ‘Jolly Fiona’ like a heavy coat and enter,

am a brief comic turn as I reveal with a conjurer’s flourish

my contribution , a partially consumed sponge;

which is placed on the coffee table beside

a voluptuous gateau and showy cup cakes.

I wince at every incision as my remnant is surgically sliced

’’ So everyone can have a piece ‘’

then remains uneaten on the plate .

 

Peeping over my coffee cup,

the other guests are all couples,

paired like ornaments around the room,

making me the oddment in a boot fair bric-a brac box.

Chat reverts to teenagers at college,

a foreign language to me so I watch the jubilee on the TV

and get tipsy on carbohydrates.

Changing course their conversation continues to blow

straight through me,

my initial jollity deflates like air

from a punctured balloon.

I clock watch for my escape plan’s zero hour .

At one , several false starts , as my dry mouth has rusted up.

Finally I scramble mumbling ’ Lunch date’,

then scurry to my car like the last of my species

shown the door by Noah.