They sat around the center table,
victim to the furtive glances of
local diners. Thrift-store polyester
whining on vinyl as thick thighs
shift in response to whispered jibes.
The hurried scrape of fork against
enamel plate, slosh of coffee over rim,
sounds of nervous movement speaking
for their need to eat and run.
The waitress clears the remnants
of the hastily eaten meal, leaves the check
without asking about desert. They pay
in silence and make their way out
the door, the last one tripping
in his high heel shoes.