I study the way you eat,
memorize the working of your jaw
and the twitch of a smile as you
lift a forkful, knowing I'm watching
and going a little slower to meet my eye
as you chew on these night thoughts,
pretending they're bacon and eggs
over easy.

We touch under the table,
knees emboldened
by so much formica and ribbed aluminum
that we can, over this after-midnight breakfast,
believe in the dream served up, late.