Claire's perspective on pizza was hesitant
from mine, but when hunger filled her stomach, she always perked
right up and dialed the number from memory. "Isn't it a bother
to order pizza with three toppings on one side and sixteen
on the other?"
she'd ask. As it is with people who share toothbrushes,
my Socratic reply
never changed: "Dear, why should we sacrifice
when we can pay people
to do it for us?" Every time I said it, Claire
would get turned on and
blush like a road falling off into the sea.
Then, we'd both forget the pizza
and our world would become an empty
museum with all the lights off, a place
where planets and airplanes
looked just like horses, grazing just beyond
a fence line.
© Adam Clay
Typo Magazine. His poems have appeared in Mississippi Review, can
we have our ball back?, Tarpaulin Sky, and other magazines.
directs Arkansas's Writers in the Schools program and co-edits