Every other Tuesday
She reads The Guide
for the Perplexed, with half
an eye on the café door.
Every other Tuesday,
at the table in the corner,
she’s poised to ask,
Was it hot in the city today?
And he’s ready
to answer Yes and ask
if there’s more marmalade
for the biscuits. Every other
Tuesday the steam
beads up on the outside
of the teapot and sugar gathers
heavy at the bottom.