over chicken
grease corona
and 2 pence
I felt Dr. Pepper
spark again
I felt ketchup again in my sniffles
I saw something
non linear
like the sequence gap in his unforrowed brow
I saw something
behind the blue
shul on the beach
In his slender mayonaise spotted
finger I saw something
with
the napkin
I wiped from his bartending
shadow on his face
in his faded green pant
I saw two macaroons
that fell like a shooting star
in the cigarette
he ashed
and stepped on it
with the foot that mingled with my toes in the sand
on that other beach not important to mention
in his little new blue phone
chewing the strawberry mess of a gum and the hebrew
in the gausy chairs
in the tables roundness
in the 2 euro coin I tipped
him for singing
in the upright
glass in our apologies
that dissappeared down the throat of the bubbly
corona top and the top that heard green day wincing
out of his memory
in my giggle of release
as he pissed around the corner
while I learned that Dixie chicken is from India
in the red bus that I missed
in the hashbon that we halfisies on
in the leaf painted that
hung on the wall of that cafe
in the belts that walked by us
shown like that one starplanet
that stood above my head
that missed all its friends
on that beach not important enough to mention
in the styrofoam clam of a chicken
again hot chicken
reassured me in that cab to that basketball game
that little backwards car tried to park
next to our walking
like the blackpearl
lifted from my heart
as that construction paper covered the window of Club 113
in the milk and honey
in the milk and honey
in the milk and honey
another pearl of meat
sprang chicken in my defeat with 2 pence
kissing me two times
2 peanuts like cracked
for
2 ashed cigarettes
and two grey hairs to talk
2 beers and two packets of ketchup
ketchup