the corn beef sandwich

you must try the corn beef
the man says
sitting next to you at the counter.
you put the menu down to look at him.
there is mustard in his mustache.
bread in his teeth.
he sips his beer and smiles.
it's the best around.
you won't be sorry he says,
putting money on the counter
and slapping you on the back
in a friendly way.
you watch him zipper up
his jacket, tight around
his belly. he puts his
hat on, a scarf
around his thick neck, then
slips his hands into his
gloves. try the corn beef
he says. if my wife
had made it like they do
here, I'd be home now,
still married, and happy.