Smearing the residue of another’s lips from his crinkled collar,
Slips hurriedly through the front door - late
Grabs his plate of the repetitive dinner, then makes his escape
Wife calls meekly after him - tone even, but eyes on the brink
Wants to hope this time it’ll be different, but her faith’s down the sink
He’s got work to do, he says - he’ll eat in the other room
Leaving wife and kids alone at the table to pick over their food
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