in an aftermath of roses
we eat small sandwiches
and make smaller talk

the small sandwiches are filled
with pasty tuna, chicken or
seafood salad, and remind me 

how hungry and nauseous i am. 

on other, less 
devastating catered occasions
i have been known to eat a dozen or more
of those small sandwiches. 
they're damn good. 

but never again bearing witness
to her bearing witness to beauty again
prompts an occasion for involuntary starvation. 

too many people here drinking
no-comfort coffee in suits and
dresses. they've all been 
here so long they're dust covered,
and even my reeking like the corrupt
can't disperse them.

-mcb

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