Sitting in the city café
A woman near the window starts crying.
Her friend goes to stand up,
A look of disgust across her face.
“He told me I’m his side chick,”
The crying woman says
Before the other one leaves.
I watch her out the window
As she walks away down the street
The other woman– the side chick- cries for a while and then leaves as well.
I wonder what a side chick is.
The waitress comes and stands beside me
I realise I’m the only one left in the café.
“They didn’t leave any money,”
The woman says.
I look up at her,
She is old, with lines on her face
But still pretty.
Her arm is a sleeve of tattoos, and a tear is tattooed on her cheek.
I start to ask her what a side chick is
But I change my mind and give…
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