Three vacant chairs, one occupied
thought alone - he's accompanied by
the dining table and it's utensil kin.
Along with them are:
The stench of powdered MSG,
a waste basket brimming with disposable plastic
and the essence of time in it's three minute pause.
During the wait,
The lone man and his crust-filled eyes
meander upon an open cupboard.
When realization dawns,
his tear ducts crank a stream of rain.
His face is moist,
due to what he's seen.
A stack of Tupperware
neatly arranged by color, by shape
embodying the role of collection and completeness.
A quality his own family now fails to express.