three squares

mostly, he talked about the food
at the shelter, not
the noise, or danger. nor
the top bunk where he slept.
he talked about
the three squares per day.
his eyes, as blue and murky
as any low water
along the river, darted as
he said the words
Salisbury steak, potatoes,
green beans, and pie,
rhubarb pie for dessert
with vanilla ice cream.
he couldn't wait for the day
to end to get to the table
where he was served and
waited upon as if he was
a king, not a man with
one suitcase and all he
owned inside.