A commercial on the Military Channel
advertises the next installment of a show
called "World War II in Color" while I
lay back digesting a far-from-kosher meal
in the fake warmth of the woodstove
appreciated only due to sacrifices made
by wrinkled men with liver spots
who trade change for little red flowers
made of cloth and wire
outside of the grocery store.
"It's a funny selling point," I tell the chef.
"I'm pretty sure that's how it happened."
Currently reading:
"Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe.
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