Tonight's Poet Corner: The Fine Diner

The Fine Diner
by Belinda Roddie

Red ascot napkin
paper cup handbag
sip a whiskey

Ahhhhh.

Nothing like the

fine aged morning with a
musky sun dangling like a
pendulum back and forth
on whittled clouds

so easy to
chip away
with toothpicks

He wipes his mouth
samples a mussel
He wipes his mouth

samples his muscle
against the tablecloth
of forest animals shivering under
the booger-heavy snout
of a clout

Mother notices
he used the wrong fork
for his cobb salad

and left

red and pink and blue
hazelnut screws
glistening under handshakes
from talking starch shirts
and
saxophone neckties