what kind of cheese?

as the men

come to take away the old pool

table

in the basement.

taking it apart one screw

at a time.

i make them

sandwiches.

i am becoming my mother.

one wants mayo, the other

mustard

on his ham.

i slice

tomatoes and ask them about

onions.

lettuce?

i tell them i only have rye

bread,

to which they nod okay.

toasted one says.

what kind of cheese do you

prefer

i ask the gentleman

with a snake

tattoo on his neck,

the other with a golden

tooth

that shines when he talks.

romaine please,

the snake fellow says.

and provolone,

if you have it.

swiss for me golden tooth

says,

the glitter of his chops

gleaming in the overhead

light.