byEric Gansworth
- Mike and me
two reservation boys
in a plush, carpetted livingroom
(some friend of his from school)
need to be told
to use the coasters
(having thought they were
small decorative petrified
wood pieces)
when placing the crystal
long-stemmed wine goblets
on the glass-top coffee table.We stare longingly
at the lonely block
of pale cheese which is difficult
to see on the almost
matching tea-party plate set
before us
so different
from the heavy orange
bricks that have our families'
work-dirty fingerprints and
GOVERNMENT SURPLUS - - NOT FOR RESALE
adorning their sides.As we walk the rutted
roads of home later
Mike tells me
he knew there was
more cheese
in that guy's fridge
could see it glowing
through the white
enamel door
but the plate stayed
empty at least
until we left.We finished the night
at his mother's kitchen
table with the rest
of his family
eating cheese as long
as the brick lasted
and sipping from wine
glasses by Welch's.