I sit,
even and cross-legged,
taking in the aroma

Red plaid tablecloth
beige folded napkins
etiquette is seldom self-taught

Your mind is a fickle dam
I tell you to keep it all to yourself,
and you explode

Look at yourself
Can you change?
You give me a mirror, and a ghastly wretch stares back
Can I change?

You get up from your seat
You quit, bathing me in tense silence
I get up from my seat
I quit, leaving the table to itself

We both know that the morning is too early for fighting.

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