Konstandinos Mahoney
Table for two on the beach.
He sits facing me.
I dare not look him in the eye.
Who am I to eat with a God?
The waiter brings Greek salad,
silver blue sardines, wine.
The carafe empties.
His round face flushes.
He sinks low in his chair,
disappears under the table.
Behind me voices, laughter,
clinking glasses.
I sit alone at a table for two
before a darkening sky.