Mimes at Dinner
She doesn't know
the other woman's name
he doesn't know
she spit in his tuna
noodle casserole
she doesn't know
the other woman is a
man tattooed Japanese
with silent worms
dig holes in walls.
He doesn't know
anyone from Japan
except the woman at
Korean restaurant he
assumes is Korean
she doesn't know
tattooed man asked
him to leave her
he doesn't know
why he couldn't
say yes
she doesn't know
he doesn't know
he loves her
He doesn't know
Japanese but traces
words on table
from memory
she doesn't know
why he tells her
Marcel Marceau died today.
Amy Riddle mostly writes short-short fiction but flirts unashamedly with poetry when she feels fiction is not treating her right. She recently graduated from Illinois State University with her Master of Arts degree in English, and she has every intention of not letting this keep her from writing. And while she appreciates the progress humankind has made in terms of sanitation, she disapproves of automatic-flush toilets.
