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Richard asked me to guess on the background of the waitress at the restaurant where we ate breakfast
This waitress had sad, victimized eyes, saggy breasts, acne around her nose and mouth
I put her age at 26 or 27
Richard usually made a point of flirting with the waitress at every restaurant we went to
However, he saw the story I constructed based on what he asked and left this waitress for me
He told her stories - that I was a famous writer, that I'd won the Pulitzer Prize
She smiled with painful patience and brought our omelet's
Richard asked me if time was a river, how did we end up getting swept through the rapids?
I had no answer to that and no interest in flirting with the waitress
I looked into her eyes when she brought the bill
I saw the West decline as a result of the perfidy embodied in its citizens' relationships
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem