At the Veggie Grill

You’ve seen him before, adorned in age,

a basketball jersey, and a baseball cap

with skin squeezing out and over the sides

but oiled and shiny for those fresh tribal tattoos

on sun-freckled skin the color of a salmon’s

fattest parts. His Asian wife and mixed-race

kids watch him eat before they get theirs.

The wife keeps herself to standards

he expects but doesn’t live, and their

kids respectfully go with her to pick up

their food when the number’s called.

They all smile, about to catch up to Dad,

who is half-way through his In-n-Out

double-double cheeseburger and fries

thickened with ranch, cheese, and onions,

animal style. The wife eats, the kids eat,

starring at Dad while he stares at his phone.

I could be wrong, maybe you haven’t seen

him before, maybe it’s hard looking in a mirror,

but we see him and wonder:

how can we be him.

orignally published in Rigorous