fourteen sun-dried tomatoes

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I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still, I say —No, picking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —the voice I’ve heard you carry
Up to the boy with bad dreams stirring
In some faraway room of a long forgotten year.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —the summer nights when rain falls
And each tile of the patio is damp & shaken
And tomatoes slump over in the weight of their fruit.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —tired is the lamp under which
The men play chess, and the woman are off in bed,
Their chests rising & falling beneath the ticking clock.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —when the child so mortified
The stuffed animal is lost forever sees it again,
And crushes the small dusty thing close to her neck.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —the funeral is over, he’s in the ground,
And with beer the friends remove themselves
To a beach house, and will wake all night.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —the laundry folded and put away,
The shelves are dusted, the floor is swept,
A winter day ready for an afternoon of books.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —the water she pulled from the creek
As it rushes across the clear gray slate,
Is cold in her throat & she drinks hungrily.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet, I say —finally, the lovers are ready to kiss,
And first they softly clasp each other’s hands,
And the world comes down to their beating hearts.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet I say —the snow has settled on the hills,
The land is fresh & cold & white to look upon,
The dog is laughing in the wild yard.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaked in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet I say —ask her how it feels and she says
I’ve never ridden so fast! her cheeks flushed,
The horses snuffling & grunting happily.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaking in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet I say —catching less than their limit
Still meant ten salmon, and the twilight blued the fish,
And they walked completely back to camp.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at the deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaking in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet I say —the keys are in the ignition
And mom & dad are waving from the porch,
Calling to the first born drive carefully! and he hears.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at a deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaking in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet,
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Sweet I say —the softness of the night, pillowy,
The baby has slept for hours & the parents
Start carefully to rediscover their selves.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
Under the halogen light, the ancient deli,
I am here forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.
				+
I’m at a deli on Second Avenue counting out
Fourteen sun-dried tomatoes soaking in olive oil
And a woman with an accent & pointing asks
—hot?  And I say —no, these are sweet.
But she raises an eyebrow, a mother many times.
Still I say —no, taking one from my plastic cup,
Goddammit, I say —wasn’t one enough?
Now look how many you’ve eaten, we’ll have to pay
For these.  You can wipe that smile off right now.
She laughs, squinting her eyes & her neck jiggles.
She pats my arm.  Hot! she warns,
Leaving me with oil dripping from my fingers.
There.  Under the halogen, the ancient deli lights.
Still I am forever, mother, your syllables, my heart.