Say a witty line, watch it dance
on the lip of a wine glass. Peck at the cannoli
though you are not hungry, have never known
hunger. Judge everyone at the table, the policeman
nonchalant as he flips an envelope
over and over in his hand,
the waiter’s toothy grin when no one is watching,
the grandmother doodling on napkins,
wondering what to do with the zygote
no one will believe is inside her.

You are hiding Ibsen’s lessons,
how what it is that brought you to this table
was buried long ago without fanfare.