The
window sits transparent
Marking
the end of the counter
The
extent of my claim
As
I sit and ponder
The
scented steam rising
Surrounding
my closed lid face
Engulfing
my nostrils
Hijacking
my olfactory
In
the aging Chinese restaurant
This
spot is the best spot
Without
any effort or neck craning
I
can gaze at the entire downtown
As
it rises up the low hill
As
if it gradually crept out of the river
Where
it hid from the Union soldiers
And
the burning swath
Officiated
by Sherman
From
the steps of the capital
Columbia
burned to the ground
But
you’d never know it now
On
this beautiful day
As
the dusky haze settles
I
return my gaze to base concerns
Two
perfect eggrolls
Hot
and crunchy
Waiting
The
bottle of duck sauce
Stands
ready
Filled
with ginger laden sweetness
And
each bite is delightful
And
the restaurant is nearly deserted
And
my thoughts and I
Enjoy
the view
Ponder
the delicacies
Watch
the city age a little more
Dig
out my last dollar
And
a few loose coins
Order
a third
From
the amused proprietor
She
laughs
And
I know I’m not the first
To
linger at that spot at the counter
And
see the beauty of the city
Through
the rising steam
From
a perfect eggroll
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