the plaid lunch box

I remember sitting in the lunch
room
and looking over at my
friend peter Ornstein's lunch
box.
plaid, made of metal.
a thermos full of cold milk.
four cookies.
a sandwich with the crust
carefully cut off.
ham and cheese, lettuce
and tomato.
a small baggie full of chips.
cut carrots.
an apple.
all carefully placed side
by side in his box and a note
from his mother.
with a big heart drawn on it.
saying
I love you, have a wonderful
day.
I looked at my soggy brown
lunch bag.
a peanut butter sandwich stuffed in
that I slapped together before
rushing out of the house.
we eat as I stare off into
the distance,
listening to the crunch of carrots
between his perfectly
straight white teeth.