real life

local night life

sandwiched between
a starry-eyed dreamer and a level-headed realist,
I cut careful forkfuls of steaming pizza,
biting back snarky comments
in a conversation that doesn’t interest
my narcissistic self.

eventually, our talk weaves its way onto
more common ground.
even so, I’m only half involved;
distracted by the steady stream of young,
oven-browned women,
walking confidently out of this specialty bakery
(get a tan while your pizza bakes! careful, new bulbs!)
into a mid-April evening
and cars with personalized plates.

i imagine that immediately upon arriving home
they each close their respective doors,
stripping off outer clothing,
and admire – or critique –

wish for a little more.

i finish eating,
steer our words into more personal territory-
two of us bypassing the lighter talk
of families (who
have now moved on to
hand-dipped ice cream)

just as in every group conversation:
wishing for a little more.