Poetry / March 2016 (Issue 31)

Danny Silver Man

by Matthew James Friday

The co-owner of Green Garden Cafe
in Ping'an. The man who served
with a thousand "sorries," as if just
appearing at the table needed apologies.
The man who laughed at the start
and end of every sentence. Giggling
his new kind of grammar. As cheerful
as the barn sparrows gliding, swooping,
he scuttled around, always in a rush
for us, his only customers, while his wife
was online. For his amazing spring rolls,
vegetables folded with a desire to please;
the smoothest coffee, banana pancakes
with only apple because there isn't enough
bananas, he says. Mojito amazingly minus
the rum — I get distracted. So sorry! So sorry!
He promised rum every time we saw him,
returned to him, his smiles as refreshing
as the rain that quickly clouded the view
of ancient rice terraces, mountains, China.
But not Danny, a man lined in silver.
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