She sat at a shrouded table with
Semi-strangers jabbering giddily,
Animatedly ignoring or interrupting
Each other’s narratives.
The clatter of silverware on china,
A haze of perfume and nervousness
Wafting over occasionally. A nod of
Acknowledgment, smile of recognition.
When will this end? All rise for the
Hallowed oath, a group of like-minded,
Like-thinking, like robots, enjoying the
Luncheon of superficiality.
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