Then one afternoon,
After age has settled
-Deep in our bones,
You will ask me
About that little place,
Where we used to eat
-in younger days,
On the corner of a nameless street,
Where only now remain,
The old, forgotten men,
Drinking from their brown paper bags.
I’ll tell you,
Half joking,
That it burned down
Oh so long ago.
And no, I don’t recall
The name of the pregnant waitress.
But singed into my brain remains,
A picture without boundaries;
The snapshot of
A small child’s hungry face,
Peering in through,
A one-way window.
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