FATHER SON DAY AT AN ART DISTRICT PIZZA JOINT
“How Blue the Moon,” in speakers up above,
my son so eager for his cheese pizza.
The art district, the portion that we saw
was shadowed by a wooden carved out dove.
Where used bookstores and coffee shops excel.
So hidden by a frozen yogurt sign
a bar is opening a formal line
a step away from where we sit and smell.
The smell of garlic roasting in the stove
and we sit eye to eye, me and my son,
a joke is passed between us with a smile.
In silence our words sat on lips and dove
on our table like an accordion
as we try to make each bite last a mile.
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