Occasionally it happens. It’s almost as though it sneaks up from behind and lays a warm, firm palm on my back…and gently pushes. “Go on,” it cajoles, “nothing matters more than NOW.” I forget it’s Wednesday night and we had promised ourselves that this is to be an early dinner with a couple of friends, and then a couple of other friends walk in and join us and then the lady who lives down the hall, you know, the one with the quirky sense of humor, who I call over and ask her to tell everyone the funny story about the hunchback with the toy poodle, and then our waitress asks if this is the fourth or fifth bottle of wine and we conclude that it’s got to be the fifth bottle or even the sixth and then someone says Sherry? and then someone else says I think the waitress’ name is Jenny and we all laugh the way the Cracker Jack company thinks everyone laughs at the jokes in that miniature joke book prize you get stuck with in every fourth box because it is probably the cheapest of the cheap prizes you get at the bottom of the box assuming you’re stupid enough to open the box right side up.
workday commute
her black umbrella patterned
with yellow smiley faces
by Jeffrey Winke
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
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