Eating Alone

I entered a busy restaurant alone;
only two empty tables remain;
I normally choose to eat at home;
eating alone was not the same.

Several times, I ate at the same place;
with two unique men, sitting nearby,
they eventually invited I join their space;
I never figured out just why.

The three of us were an odd mixture;
White Priviledge, an Indian, and me;
in this restaurant, we became a fixture;
an absolute oddity, times three.

White Priviledge spoke with a booming voice;
but, the Indian matched him; word for word;
I often remained silent; for I had no choice;
three speaking at once; seemed absurd.

It often seemed a bizarre friendship of three;
sharing all our hopes and fears;
our coming together; seemed meant to be;
becoming the odd three musketeers.

White Priviledge; the most fragile of the three;
within a couple of years, had died;
would the trio be rejoined in eternity;
our bond could not be denied.

The Crow Indian and I still are good friends;
tho in some ways; we’re world’s apart;
on honesty and love; our future depends;
all souls are the beats of God’s heart.

I returned, today; to the place where we met;
sad that White Priviledge had gone home;
all my friends and loves; I’ll never forget;
I’m so sad when I eat alone.

Monty 5/25/24. # 2,125