Thursday, August 21, 2008

Lilies of the Field

He passed me the plates and they dripped
all over the wooden floor. The story
he was telling me was about some delivery
that had gone wrong. Like a pie bird or a torn
piece of Kleenex. The lorry
backed up about ten feet. It had a strange
ring to it, like a quacking mouse in the children’s
We saw a parade of nuns along the road
when Sidney Poitier popped-up in his pink
Yank tank.
That’s who he called his friend
from Ghana, except his friend had dreadlocks
and drove an off-white Twingo.

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