“The Northeast News Bureau will raise a glass Tuesday at noon at the newly-renovated Metuchen Inn!” – Memo from the Home Office

On entering, I noticed that an aging
middle manager, a salesman lonely
at the decorated bar, was paging
through his scrap-heap of a wallet. (Only
I would notice such a deadly thing!)
He found a photograph and tucked it in
the holly-swaddled candle by his drink.
It was a yellowed thumbnail portrait of a thin
and dour girl. His daughter one would think.
A doleful mid-December scene to wring
the season to its horrid rind. From where
I sat at lunch, I had this nicely-framed
vignette to ponder through my third Sancerre
as Gail regaled the table unashamed
and Dean gave way to Burl who bowed to Bing.