by R. Gerry Fabian
I, somewhat surprisingly to me,
decide to go to the diner for lunch.
They seat me in a single two-sided booth
and I order a Diet Coke and glance at the menu.
In my head, I am currently rewriting the lineup
of my favorite professional baseball team
which has lost four straight games
because among other things,
they do not have a “closer.”
A woman is seated in the booth
next to mine while I continue
the play around with different lineups.
I am also considering a change at “closer.”
I look over at the woman who smiles
and I smile back, a polite casual smile.
“May I join you?” the woman asks
while moving across the aisle
and sliding into the seat across from me.
The waitress notices but makes no comment.
Almost simultaneously we both order the “special.”
When our sandwich platters arrive,
I feel her foot rub up against mine.
I smile. She smiles back.
We eat without conversation.
I am torn between the “closer” and her smile.
For dessert, she orders, “Key Lime pie and two forks.”
“Well, what do you think?”
“The pie is excellent.”
“Not the pie.” She scolds.
At that moment, I close my eyes as
the entire lineup falls into places
including the new “closer.”
When I open them, the check is next to me
and she is walking out the door.
