dessert shop

 The thick jawed waiter invited me into the restaurant
He didn't want to be there anymore than I did
The menu was clean reflective and eternally mundane
He could see my eyes glaze over

then he presented me with cake and other samples
the false smile curling as the chocolate sauce drizzled over the sample
This wasn't a transaction it was common satire
one I had to pretend to be a part of

clean blue tables
lit up by low hanging popart lamps
all wholesome traditional blended plastic
the obligation of bathing your senses in meaningless advertising

enthralled in the pitch hook and prospect of a purchase
target practice of closure

seated numb with sugar
I will tell you your future