Domestic Breakfast Scene

A face off.
Seated at opposite sides of the
small cherry table dusted
with toast crumbs,
silverware clinks and scratches against
the breakfast china.
The birds sing outside and
distant sounds of the highway
fill the otherwise brittle breakfast air.
The crunching of toast, a gulp of coffee, the
squirts and farts of the ketchup bottle,
low on ketchup;
sounds of the breakfast, the hardening of extra
scrambled eggs getting cold and gummy
in the pan on the stove.
Neither one meets the others eye,
and when the Male has finished,
he stands and adjusts his tie,
leaving his breakfast dishes for his Female to clean up.
A low mumble breaks the brittle air and
before she knows it,
she is alone with
the ticking clock and the
now-empty ketchup bottle and
his mess.
Sitting there, alone at the breakfast table,
the Female sinks into herself and
tries not to feel anything as she cries.