Counter-Intelligence

I was staring at the headlines on my lap,

digesting the grease and the morning news,

when a voice in the booth behind me snapped

like the sudden fraying of a fuse.

'I just need you to look me in the eye,

she said, her tone a flat and level shelf,

'and show me how you look when you lie.'

I found myself holding my breath, myself.

A stainless spoon hit the ceramic floor,

a ringing note that stopped the waitress dead.

The man didn't move toward the swinging door,

he just stared at the salt and the sugar instead.