Claire's perspective on pizza was hesitant
and different 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 directs Arkansas's Writers in the Schools program and co-edits Typo Magazine. His poems have appeared in Mississippi Review, can
we have our ball back?, Tarpaulin Sky, and other magazines.
