Mid Afternoon Meals

Whiskers sweep around her sweet little wrinkled lips weathered by age. His hair cascading silver grey curls around his ripped flannel shirt and balding top. Everyday he orders the same. Country ham steak, eggs sunny, with a side salad. Ranch dressing. The consistency captivates attention, and while he sits back and settles on the regular. Her plump little breakfast sausage fingers scan the menu for something new. Sometimes she writes in Gaelic translating fagoli and ravioli into historic tongues. The laugh with me about the theatre, symphonies and art. In her faded tie dye she jots down my schedule because they won't sit with anyone else. We spend these mid afternoon meal moments. Sitting in a familiar booth watching the sun slide into the building tops.