Lunch with Paul
/Modeled after San Francisco poet, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, "Lunch with Paul" is a rollicking adventure through love and fantasy.
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Today is his day
to choose the restaurant
where we will be having our lunch.
Once a week I pick him up at his gym
where he swims laps in the morning,
takes the advice of his locker-mates
about places to eat lunch.
Last week we went to the Flight-line Café
at Chandler Airport.
He didn’t want to go in,
the sign said Chinese Food.
He had Chinese take-out the night before.
His towel-wrapped mates
in the gym locker-room
when they heard he passed it up
told him he should eat there.
Next week I will choose
Starving Artist Bistro.
This particular day, as I schlepped
his folding-walker and basket attachment
full of plastic-bags contents
unknown, into the car.
He grunted loudly
as he hung on the open-door
trying to find his way
to the passenger seat.
He wanted to go to Churrasco Grill,
his sister recommended.
I asked about the location?
Out by the airport on Gateway.
We drove east on McKinley Avenue
and found it by the number
of cars parked around
a commercial/office building
filling the former WWII bomber base,
where the ammunition-bunkers
were once spread widely-apart,
and the old skeet-shooting range
used to be located.
Now, a Mediterranean-Lebanese grill
occupying the entire end-suite.
There appeared to be a line
of otherwise predisposed people
waiting to get in. Instead
they were waiting for take-out!
We found an empty table near the door,
parked Paul’s walker,
The waitress came around with menus.
She asked for drinks?
Paul passed, even though she offered
to bring him water. I ordered lemonade.
Is pink-lemonade okay? she asked.
When my lemonade arrived,
in a large glass with ice, Paul asked,
What’s that? I’ll have one of those!
From where I was sitting
I could see most of the tables
and all the happy-diners
in this casual-dining restaurant,
only open for lunch and dinner
take-out before 6 P.M.,
no reservations.
Paul ordered first:
A 4-meat combination plate,
Marinated chicken, beef, lula and lamb,
Grilled with zucchini, rice pilaf,
Fatoush-salad and garlic sauce,
And a bowl of lentil soup.
I had a Lula-Kebab plate,
Grilled, marinated meat
With peppers, rice, fatoush-salad,
hummus and toasted peta bread.
Next to me was an interior half-wall
that divided the dining-area.
There were a dozen tables in there
with women four-at-a-time:
secretaries, receptionists, hygienists,
transcribers, bills-payable.
Except for one woman in her twenties
who seemed to be waiting
while she ate her lunch alone.
She had a lovely face that radiated
a milk-white wholesomeness,
sandy-colored hair neatly combed.
She wore a red T-shirt
that said “Love” in gold glitter,
under a tasteful tweed-jacket.
Mesmerized by her loveliness
I couldn’t take my eyes off her,
perhaps the most beautiful woman
in the entire restaurant. I was
Afraid she would catch me staring,
when she looked up from her meal,
discover my longing gaze.
She stood up when a man
in his early-thirties approached her.
From his demeanor looked to be
an assistant-pastor
at an evangelical church in Clovis.
I noticed a wedding-ring,
as he hugged her.
She held on longer
than he did and I took note of this.
Seated she seemed to dangle
on his every word, as he talked
slowly and carefully.
Perhaps he had a wife and three kids
all under the age of five at home.
How could he harm her?
A woman who is sweet and divine.
She leaned in toward him while he spoke,
like she was his lover,
he seemed ambivalent.
He did not order lunch
but sat and talked to her
like this was an appointment,
randomly looking away
so I couldn’t read his lips.
She was giving in to him,
I fell on every word.
She looked blankly
in my direction,
unseeing from across the room
as if in need of my rescue.
Then she looked soulfully at him
Giving him a long look.
After about 15 minutes,
he got up from the table.
She got up as well,
and hugged him again.
An affectionate hug that was too long.
Soon he will devour her
In an upstairs apartment
Two blocks away
And leave her after an hour.
He turned to go now
walking by our table
without so much as a glance.
She looked a tad delighted,
Obviously she didn’t have a job
that she needed to be at.
She sat for a lingering-moment
With a half-smile,
As if she had complete control,
composed herself
then got up to leave.
My eyes were fixed on her smile
as she approached the exit
near our table.
A smile as if she knew
something in matters of love.
Passing by our table,
she didn’t see me
really gawking, studying
her walk and kind expression.
She was perfect,
and precious and admirable.
Paul was oblivious to all this,
But noticed my staring and commented
About all the women in the place
this time of day.
We each paid our checks with $20 bills
and scuttled on out of there
By Stephen Barile
From: United States