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