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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Sharing a Cookie at the Art Museum




A couple of a certain age—sixties—

bearing two small cardboard cups (coffee? tea?),

and a medium-sized black and white cookie,

took the next table. Mister (greedy): “A bite?”

Ms. (plump, but not too): “Well, I’ll take part of it.”

Back in the day, circa Nineteen-Fifty,

B & W’s, bigger, cost six cents.

Now, at this chichi eatery, a fin?

“Appetizers?” you ask. “Entrees?” Please! As if!!

 

My wife and I have devised a system

—“I cut, you choose”—which we consider just

Now, in the cookie’s case, we’d have to cut

crosswise, sharing each color, or flavor

unless, of course, we agreed beforehand

which we might well do, since chocolate tends

to give me a headache that can last for days.

 

When I looked up from my Spartan lunch

apple, bagel, Cheddar cheesesort of brunch,

and from my judicious lucubrations,

they were still there, as was the now-empty plate!

Yet the nimbus, the after-cookie, remained.

By now, they were chortling naughtily

over a photo he or she had taken

on his or her phone. Could it have been me,

mourning for cookies past, eaten, disappeared?


                                                       -Ron Singer