Thursday, January 9, 2014

The Poem Series About the Spring of 2006 Continues to Unfurl in 2014


March 14, 2006
I saw a little girl

in a catholic school uniform
walking with her father
First she meticulously adjusted her shoes
and then she began to skip
Her dad carrying her pink backpack clung over his shoulder
bumped along gamely but awkwardly beside her
Perhaps fatherhood turns men
who would otherwise be businesslike or even grave
into frolicsome goofballs

Had lunch at the Chinese restaurant that Bill and I refer to as
Red Line Blue Line Green Line
a brick building with a cavernous dining space and little in the way of d├ęcor
There are three lines you can get into for your food
hence the name
although they are actually marked in red, yellow, and green not blue
and I always get in the yellow line which leads to the cafeteria-style steam table
There you always say the same things to the ladies in the little red smocks
what kind of rice you want
and if it’s for here or to go
and they pull the top plate
off the stack of big heavy cream-colored ceramic plates
and scoop the food out of the big silver bins with their big silver ladles
fried rice, broccoli, and two diminutive pot-stickers
and the woman at the register the end of the counter
tells you your total before you can get the words
and a diet coke
in edgewise


image source is here

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