Mary McCue leaned into the shopping cart <br />for a romance novel <br />and the fat on her arms jiggled <br />with forty years of loneliness <br />squashing the three hundred pounds <br />against her heart. <br />Just then Huey called out “Mash ready” <br />and I heaved the triple portion of potatoes to Mary <br />who handed me a dollar for Huey <br />all she could manage at the end of the month <br />until the Welfare check showed up <br />yet she needed bulk for her belly <br />thus the heavenly starch. <br />Before she dug in <br />Mary poured a half cup of sugar onto her feast. <br />“I can’t afford cake, Bernstein, ” she said <br />as I stared, though not wanting to. <br />Just then Candy, Sugar, and Jasmine <br />strolled in, the night now formerly finished <br />with the presence of the local ladies. <br />Mary watched <br />their gorgeous and graceful forms <br />float to the table. <br />Pockets stuffed with cash <br />they ordered bacon, eggs, homefries, toast, <br />pancakes, apple pie, coffee, and orange juice <br />to show they could <br />but never consumed the entire fare <br />and when finished <br />placed the nearly full plates <br />before Mary <br />who smiled <br />eyes alive with adoration <br />the gift of dreams.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/angels-of-the-night/
