Automat, by Chris Ritter

Automat, by Edward Hopper (USA) 1927

​Automat

You know her by the brim of her yellow hat,
wilted while she waited, sipped her second cup,
finished something dry -  a hard roll, perhaps,
with a pat of butter on a plate she pulled from 
the glass box after inserting a nickel to unlock 
the door. She must have brushed the crumbs 
from the black felt lapels of her good overcoat, 
its wool a comfort to her. Her legs crossed 
beneath the table, one foot bobbing. You 
recognize that she’s waiting for him again.
It’s cold outside, and dark, making the floor shine 
like ice. The radiator hissed and spit, cornered, 
by the window. She sat with her back to it, 
didn’t want to see him coming, but wanted him
to see the hat. You can tell she imagines him
rushing in, a little drunk, maybe, with a whossh 
from the door, struggling out of his coat, settling 
in the chair across from her, apologizing for being 
late, facing her and the window so large he could 
observe the whole street if it weren’t so dark, 
the round lights overhead like orbs receeding
into the window’s infinity. But she’s so stoic.
She’s going to tell him it’s over, and dumbfounded 
he would stare at the bowl of wax fruit
on the windowsill, the fake apple as red as her lips 
that marked the rim of the cup. You know that’s 
when she’ll rise unsteadily and make for the door
to disappear into the frigid night. But for now 
she waits, her finger in the loop of the cup
as if it were a ring, an anchor, her other hand 
still gloved in the chilly room, her cheeks meekly
shadowed by her hat’s brim are ruddy or rouged 
and you understand that he never shows up. 
And you have to wonder if her lover were real or 
something she dreamed to fill the empty chair, or 
if Hopper, had him in mind when he sat her down,
back to the glass, without reflection, or if it’s you,
projecting all your disappointments into the frame,
waiting for some resolution to all the lonely mysteries 
you created before gathering yourself to rise and go.

Chris Ritter

Chris Ritter’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in several publications, including Book of Matches, Arcturus, the anthology Support Ukraine – Year Three, and The Black Coffee Review. Chris resides in South Jersey and teaches English and poetry in a large, regional public high school.