Heads Or Tails

Drank three glasses of wine,

trying to choose between

eggs benedict and eggs royale.

My companion, losing patience,

told me to toss a coin.

I didn’t have a coin.

He didn’t have a coin.

Nobody had a coin.

I left my companion

eating his steak tartare

and went outside to find someone with a coin,

and was almost arrested for begging

and being drunk and disorderly.

The police officer didn’t have a coin.

‘Tell me, inspector,’ I said,

‘in my situation, what would you do,

which would you choose,

eggs royale or eggs benedict?’

She laughed: ‘In your situation, I’d have both.’


The blessed have left their cellars

for somewhere pastoral and luminous

recalled from childhood,

or perhaps it was in a book.

Hearts hopping with fear and hunger,

they left the city in a stolen tank,

believing the signs were positive

and a prelude to heaven,

twisting their creed and distorting the facts.

But one of them understood

and died quietly and quickly

before they reached the city limits.