Scribbled on a napkin at breakfast

THE GHOST IN THE GRAVY

The old man sitting alone at the counter
laughs so hard that he starts coughing
and drools into his biscuits and gravy.

Wiping his mouth with a sleeve,
he bundles himself into proper propriety.

Then he mutters something so softly
only his best friend, dead two years,
can hear it

across the memory of
3258 shared breakfasts.

--Charles Deemer