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Appearing in Summer 2008 Pegasus
his body filled the door frame,
his shadow carpeting the foyer.
Hunger came calling.
Quietly he ordered his food,
and ate his soup with his head
bent over so close to the bowl
that he had only to twist his wrist
to put the soupspoon to his mouth.
No worry about spilling on his sweatshirt;
when the soup overlapped the spoon
it dripped directly back into the bowl.
A full stomach.
A good ending.
Appearing in issue #18 of Backstreet
Hemingway and Me
Seated at the table to my right:
a sociable business lunch—the men
loud, full of verbal bravado,
the women covertly flirtatious
except for one woman who
ate quietly, staring at her plate.
No promotion in sight for her.
Two people behind me were
talking in stage whispers so you
know they are conversing,
but not exactly about what.
I think they were discussing
how to make Jello.
For chrissakes, I coulda told them
boil some water, add the Jello mix,
stick it in the refrigerator.
I’d like to think they were really
discussing Jello wrestling.
Four older ladies in front of my booth
divided their bill and got up to leave.
One of them turned and looked at me.
“You look so lonely,” she said and I
answered “What are you suggesting?”
She laughed. Two of her companions
sort of snorted (I think they were very
close companions). “You should mind
your own business,
woman next to her.
Shook my head no, smiled.
for a quorum of a relationship.
All I required was an interesting book.
You don’t get lonely reading Hemingway.
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