Abend Dinner Meal (Prose)

Salmon, white-hot pink rested on chipped acrylic plates, pastel-teal.

Martini, extra dry extra dirty, accompanied all in the room;

Three dull green olives eyes red pupils watched all scruple.


Oven heat at feet, at present; that is, comfort warmth about air pleasant.

Words, gestures, chairs, centered, a yellow table all sat.

To speak of salt, pepper, beer, near a sink, straight-up utensils; bowls, cups, cutting boards adorned and dripping, dish rack; as is, fore and after, stacked.


Beautiful view from the window, looking glass thru to beyond, may find that no one looks back.

Outside cold; the only company we lack.

Empty seats, forks, spoons, and glass.


And we are satisfied while distant radio plays a score.

Another day, pills stuck in the back of my throat sore.

Was that last night?


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