Visual Response

Looking at a picture, a new story was told.

Late night, Dark night, bright store.      

This is a quiet night,

But the clanking of the cups

Breaks the stale silence.

The bartender wipes the crystal glasses      

Of all imperfections, but leaves finger prints.

How inconsiderate.  

The couple across the glossy table,

Quite.

The beautiful woman in red

With the fire hair

And the vain man in a suit

With a smug look.

Both quiet, but with outbursts of laughter.

How inconsiderate.

And the lonely man.

Sitting in desolate silence

Waiting for the next drink,

Repeating the words

One more.  

The bartender slides a glass to him

And washes out the old one.

He mentions that the man should leave,

Go home and sleep off a bad day.

No more drinks.

How inconsiderate.

The slave of a meaningless cycle,

Must now corrupt the cycle,

And find a new one.

Opening the cold door

To his cold apartment,

The laid off man lies down.

How could they do this to him?

How could they ruin him like this?

How inconsiderate.