The Sweet Stuff

He rocked back on his heels
As though the words I spoke
Had physical force.

I knew if I stopped speaking
He would marshal his wits
And offer a response.

I fired a second broadside
Encouraging him to go home
And act like a man.

But…he said.

I turned away
Refusing to entertain any reason
That may argue his case.

Man up!
I said
As I left him in front of the
All Day ~ All Nite Currency Exchange.

I never saw the man again.

If the ending were mine to write
It would be one of
Living happily ever after.
But I only wrote one page
In a drama of many chapters.

Glancing over my shoulder
I saw the man
Head down
Wiping his eyes
Shaking his head.

Maybe I was wrong?
Too harsh?
Judgmental?
Should I have given him
A shoulder to cry on?

To me, the danger is
Over-thinking a matter.
I usually do what my gut
Tells me.

At that moment
My gut wanted a piece of apple pie
And a cup of coffee.

You can't get pie and coffee at
The All Day ~ All Nite Currency Exchange.
A man's gotta go home
For the sweet stuff.