The restaurant, on 12,
Always busy, I smell the marinara
From the lot, the gravel under tires bare
From commuting, and the caesar,
Thick, rich and crisp as I like, but I’ll have
A glass while I wait, what a day, this is what I thought
About while eating my sandwich, a piece of vacation, love
The away of this pace, sitting
At this bar, eavesdropping, don’t tell, it’s
Just what I need after eight of the signed
Obligatory. It’s a picture, it’s vacation, the clanking plates,
The poured red or white, or beer, whatever’s
Put into the scene, I’ll take it, I need a break, so I owe Mr. Catania something, maybe
Some Nebbiolo.. Or maybe a conversation, with some
Valuable new talk, picture–
Where am I going, I have to ask, so I trespass.

(5/10/14)