THE AUTOMAT (POEM)
Just another coffee, then I’ll go
After all, he didn’t say he’d definitely be here
Only that he’d get away if he could
Which nowadays is not that often
What with his work, and what with her.
* * *
Not that he’ll be with her that much longer.
He’ll probably tell her this weekend
In fact, he would have told her last Sunday
If it hadn’t been for Charlie’s tooth and Amy’s bug.
But he will definitely tell her.
* * *
I wasn’t sure about this hat at first
Yellow’s not really my thing
But the saleswoman was so insistent
And now I’m quite glad of its cover.
* * *
Not that anyone knows me around here
Everyone at home thinks I’m a respectable girl
What will they say when it all comes out?
I’ll be the talk of the typing pool.
* * *
Just another coffee then to keep out the cold
This green coat isn’t nearly as warm as it looks
Its brown, fake fur-lined collar and cuffs
Don’t quite keep out the chill
* * *
They’ll be closing for the night soon
The waitress looks at me pityingly
But I resist asking for the bill
* * *
After all, once, on a night
Like this, just such a night
When I’d quite given up hope
He came bursting through that door
All apologies and carrying flowers
As bright as those peaches in the bowl.
* * *
Of course, it was earlier then
Earlier on, earlier in the evening,
Much nearer to the start of things
How long now? Two years, maybe three
He thinks all he has to do is call
And I’ll come running
Automat-ically.
* * *
‘Another coffee?’ the waitress asks, at last.
‘No thanks. Not for me.’
I think, at last, I’ve had my fill.
The Automat: painting by Edward Hopper
Julie Rosenfield 
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