there's this guy I see
often
sitting at the lunch counter.
he usually asks me what I’m reading.
the first time I spoke with him
he told me about May Sarton
and then told me
I had the most beautiful hair
he had ever seen.
            (that’s not too too strange,
            sometimes, older men wearing hats
            like to tell me that;
            so do older women
            standing next to men
            wearing hats)
I thanked him with a shrug
and asked him about this Sarton character.
he looked derailed and said, “No,
you should be a model or something,
that hair is so wonderful,
You’re a very handsome man.”
I thanked him again
and went back into the book. 

the next time I saw him
he asked what I was reading,
he said he noticed I read a lot of poetry.
He said his brother was a poet,
lived somewhere in Iowa,
had several books out. 

“Hmmm.”
            I said, shaking my head
“Me too.”
 
He was amazed, astonished,
he started telling me
how wonderful that was,
good for you,
that takes a lot of hard work,
I know writing takes discipline,
that's something I certainly don’t have,
I’ve always wanted to write a book;
I’ve got to tell you,
I think you are one of the most attractive men
I have ever seen, I really do.
 
“Well,”
with a sigh,
shaking my head slowly
“Thanks.”
I said
going back to the book
a little quicker this time.
 
I saw him again today
going in for a salad
            (been trying to eat
            a little better,
            maybe only one desert a day)
he sat down
just as my order came out.
I started sprinkling Tahini dressing
on the lettuce and tomatoes,
the mesculin greens and cauliflower,
the broccoli and the red peppers
 
he looked at me with his hat on
smiling over his glasses,
started saying how
he read an interview with me
he had no idea I was so famous,
I looked wonderful in the picture,
so confident and so tough,
so very Irish and defiant,
it was really quite an amazing picture of me,
my hair was perfect in that
messy sort of way, yeah the interview was great;
You know, I know you’re straight and everything,
but you’re really one of the most handsome men
I’ve ever seen. 

I breathed in through my nose
and out of it again. 

“Thanks,
Terry.”              
          I said,
my head moving left to right
in a timed cadence with each word now,
 
I turned my head to the waitress
leaning on the back counter
her fingers wrapped around the edge
and sighed to her 

“Can I get this salad to go, please.” 

   Men.
they just don’t ever give up

I walked in to the diner,
one of the stools
on the end
was open.
I took it.
 
the end is always best.
50% less people sitting next to you.
 
after ordering
a guy who slept with an ex
before she was
    an ex
walked up,
asked if he could sit next to me.
 
I said sure.
 
he sat down
and began
positioning and
repositioning the
silverware, adjusting
the exact place
where the cream and sugar,
the Daily Specials card and
the salt and pepper
shakers
sat on the counter.
 
I looked at him from the side and grinned. 
I kept reading,
using the spoon to stir my cappuccino, then
picking up the saucer with
slow deliberate movements, and

laughing
at intervals
that would seem strange to anyone
not
in the book I was reading, or
inside my head

he ordered a cup of coffee
and spent the entire time
 
quickly stirring the coffee,
drumming his feet on the floor,
adjusting and
readjusting
how his sweatshirt sat
on top of
the stool under him, and
every so often,
while bathed in the sun coming through huge windows,
he would slam the cup to his lip and take
quick whole gulps 

once he dropped the spoon
on the floor
clanging evidence he was there,
everyone looked over at him
as he stared at the place mat
with his elbow on the counter
and his hand clenched in his hair
 
my food hadn't yet come
and he dug into his pockets, dropped
two dollars and some change,
 
stood up and tried to stick his arms through
the sweatshirt, while waving and
thanking the waitress,
but it all didn't work very well
and he looked like he was trying to fit
his head
through the back of his shirt. 

once the shirt was figured out
and there he stood
he picked up the coffee mug
one last time
and slurped it whole, then
dragged the arm of his sweatshirt
across his dripping mouth and waved small 

“Have a nice day Ed!”

 “you too”

and he walked quickly
out the glass doors 

as I stroked my beard
smiling