Cafetaria Poem by Zyw Zywa

It is too high here
and too empty, and that man
over there is observing me
so awkwardly

He apparently has nothing
to do, he's knotted up and keeps
looking past me, squinting
at my breasts

His second cigarette
does not soothe him either
his thumb is tense
of desire

I can't go anywhere
there are no stores in this quarter
to escape
if he trails behind me

Should I just nod
to him, kindly
as the sunlight
and have a chat?