Lunch Box

LUNCH BOX The sandwich was probably only two days old School had let out for Christmas vacation on the 23rd And now on Christmas Eve Sam had found it - lunchbox and all - in an alley behind Clarke’s Super The kid had taken a couple of bites of the apple – now gone brown- but left the roast beef sandwich whole “Too damn much mayo!” Sam frowned “But boy am I hungry!” Licorice the cat – so named by the neighborhood kids – was hungry too and let Sam know it with his most plaintiff cry Sam was street-wise an old cardboard box dweller who had tenanted many boxes many alleys in his time Yet this was no “Hello puss whose puss are you?” animal summons for attention The yowl had a bone-rattle desperation Sam hadn’t heard before Licorice blended with the night But stood out even against the gloom She was pressed against an empty oil barrel back arched on the tips of her paws so almost skeletal Sam couldn’t help but sigh It was Christmas Eve and despite the location – a forlorn back alley – a string of lights (from somewhere) were blinking On Off On Off On Off On The red-green-gold shown against Licorice’s satin fur Charmed the (already charmed) night Charmed Sam the Box Man “Well I’ll be damned!” he gulped Then threw half the sandwich to the starving kitty “Merry Christmas old beggar.” Sam smiled