Most of them order quiche because
the place is famous for its quiche,
but a few of them, renegades,
have only soup or soup and a salad.
Almost everyone has bottled water.
No one orders coffee.
…………………………..The election
is only three weeks away. Everyone’s
trying to squeeze one more body
onto the bandwagon. Everyone’s
on the same page; sings the same
tune. “In less than a month,”
everyone’s thinking, “We’ll all be gods.”

Across town, at the burger joint,
everyone’s up for a Doublestack with fries,
or maybe the Baconmeister Deluxe.
……………………………………………No one’s
even aware that there’s salad on the menu.
Everyone’s drinking Coke or Diet Coke
except the oldtimers, nursing Senior Coffees,
or sipping OJ while their Senior Coffees cool.
They think they’ve got it pretty well locked up.
The fattest among them plops himself down,
grins, stuffs in another wicked mouthful,
and drums a little flourish on the Lucite.
Hey,” he asks, “Who’s better than us, eh?”


2 thoughts on “Partisans

  1. nicely delineated. and the rest of us avoid the big macs and the croissants with equal fervor. I may just settle for a chicken salad sandwich with a side of mystery meat.

    • I hear ya, JT. I like to visit & spy on both camps, assiduously avoiding aligning myself with either. Then I go home & make myself a nice grilled (Vermont cheddar) cheese sandwich & heat up some of My Beloved Sandra’s fabulously delicious corn chowder, turn on NPR and listen to the bloodletting.

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