Lunchtime

He flies past the front door screen with his summer shorts
and sunglasses with the
string around his head.

Makes me forget my memory,
inspired burst of imagery.

He talks to his wife
while twisting off a cap
to the mayonnaise.

She listens past her school books
above the keys she is tapping.
She rises and cuts red onions
for a lunchtime wrap.

I will make one for myself
when they are gone.

8-25-99