In the other room, where the detritus of dinner
lingers, the four men argue the weapons of
WWII. Russia. Germany. All of them
too studied, erudite.
And now it's Elvis, Bob Marley, The Beatles.
My father was a master of debate, and so
this discourse pleases me unto infinity.
My blended family, or at least the part of it
that allows itself to be together. Who is alpha?
Ohhhhh, argue some more. I love it all.
R. toiled all afternoon over the heat, reductions
of red wine and onions, beef and pork. All
enclosed in a pastry crust. O glorious feast!
Brilliant, every last one of them.