Gourmet at Seventy Nine
By Robert Joe Stout
Leftovers... but by design. How else can one
who lives alone have home-cooked beans,
grilled chicken, soup? That or crap dumped out
of cans, tasteless noodles, burrito grease.
I like to cook... he tells himself (there being
no one else to tell) clamoring kids,
heaped plates of pasta, applauding guests
ghosting through the vacant room.
One bean meal more then salad, fruit...
Diverted by old notebook notes, memories
of baseball games, he props his feet on table top,
invites himself to share a rich dessert.
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