Stood Up Poem by Steven David

I met a German woman,
her English better than my French,
but we never made our rendezvous,
what a waste of time.

In a caf'e - cigarette,
watching-the-smoke-rise,
I was prepared to take the risk,
so why she didn't show?

I kept my eyes wide open,
for her entrance at the door,
her lovely high waxy forehead,
her scuffy, blocky shoes.

But I don't regret I met her,
and I don't regret she never came,
I sat there in my seat,
like a unicorn, caffeine speeding.