nonage

A tiny secret smile
curls the corners of her mouth
as she eavesdrops on

three girls in their nonage,
laying out their dating woes
on the cafe counter.
Preparing for the crusades,

strategizing, deconstructing, analyzing:
latterday Pattons
on a callous battlefield.
Trench warfare -
each inch of conquered affection
ballyhooed and trumpeted
in propagandized glee.
Each misadventure
and catastophy
glossed over as
minor battles in the bigger conflict.
Text messages scrutinized for SIGINT,
a way to end the siege
without surrender.


And from her adjacent table
the secret smiler,
a retired veteran
of similar campaigns,
smugly sighs
and scans the newspaper
where a different battle
rages on.