18. [3 Martini Lunch]

Blur of oriole, photo red-eye.
Olive drab jostling.

Pimento mori /
one of the many pickled stares.

Pictures slip from wallet, edges
curled. Christened with brine. "The kids
have really grown, Stan."

Skinned knuckles
wedged into the jar's mouth.

"Going, going," he strains. "Gone."

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