The dimlit breakfast room
maroon pale floor tiles
no longer hold their shine
The busy half dutch skips
The man rolls
Collects breakfast dishes
Then with soaked cloth
wipes the eating surface
You stop eating
And reorganize
The table wet
drizzled with soap
lines of water
where hitherto your elbow rested
Your cup of coffee
The first waking minutes of your day
He jitters and slides anxiously
A quick look almost a greeting
You look back cloth moves
his head down again
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