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Jul 092011
 

by Salvatore Attardo

He looks like a skinny clown

in his grey-striped tuxedo

his white neck sticking out of the bow-tie

helplessly unfashionable

and the shiny black shoes.


I only get a quick glance of her

and they are outside.


I smile. And then think of her,

waiting for her prom date,

and of him

whether this will be the only beauty


he’ll ever meet

with her orchid on her wrist

her lost look as they walk out

of the crowded steak-place

where we go out of habit.