Afternoon Brunch

[summer_jackel]

Afternoon brunch

Every year on the first Saturday in April
our town holds a small parade of Fools.
The four of us walk in, my three dogs and I
in motley, tye-dye and purple fairy wings
three dubious introverts politely keeping
this loud day on the other side of
our extroverted collie, who is certain
that all the party is for him
and glows prancingly with joy.

Briefly emerging from the shade
to put our paws in the parade.

Lunch is part of this ritual. Tolerant
open-air cafes are the best.
I order waffles and sausage;
abrubtly, she who was Entirely Done
with this festival nonsense is soft and focused,
not sulking at all. I share little tidbits,
which they take politely from the fork with careful snouts.
A different fork from the one I am using, of course.
Until at some point I realize I’m not sure which fork is which

and that we’ve been sharing the same one for a while now.
But it really doesn’t matter. What a beautiful afternoon.