Paul’s 73rd birthday lunch

————

This particular sunny day

was Paul’s 73rd birthday,

A Leo, born on August 19th.

So I took him to lunch

At the restaurant of my choice.

I drove him to the Shepherd’s Inn,

935 Santa Fe Avenue,

The Basque restaurant

Across from the Santa Fe depot.

The dining room was empty

When we arrived at 1:00,

From the hallway to the door.

The waitress saw us

From the window in the door,

Came out of the kitchen, told us

Lunch tickets were sold

In the bar next door.

Lunch, Basque-style was $15.

We sat down at the end

Of the long boarder’s table

Near the swinging kitchen door.

Lunch began, bread and butter,

And a bowl of vegetable-beef soup.

Then came the salad, just lettuce

With oil and vinegar dressing.

Then, what everyone desires most

At a Fresno Basque restaurant,

The potato salad with shrimp,

A plate of cooked turnips

And boiled green beans.

Paul was busily eating his lunch

As crumbs fell from his mouth

Into his beard and he smiled,

Unable to uphold his end

Of the conversation while eating.

Paul asked the young waitress

About his friend, the cook?

”Oh, he died last month,” she said.

No wonder the food tasted so good.

Our main dishes arrived,

Paul had fish, I had tri-tip beef.

There was red wine on the table,

So Paul poured himself a glass

Toasted himself in a quiet prayer

And used it to wash down

The amalgam of food in his mouth.

Like Gelsomina, in “La Strada,”

he smiled and wiped his face and lips

With the back of his hand.

For dessert, a plate of hard cheese.

A fitting end to our birthday meal

We struggled to finish.

By Stephen Barile

From: United States