No one in this room is starving

And there are always leftovers left

So why do we wield these tight-fisted forks

And hide our hopes under napkins on laps

And endlessly ask what if what if

Instead of saying what we know:

That we don’t know

We don’t know, and who cares

We will never know, that’s the point

All we do know are colors and symbols on little screens

And cupcakes

And excellent coffee

And overpriced salads

And the sun reflecting on the water under the bridge

That we wish would carry us away to where we were meant to be

When all we really have is each other

Which is everything

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