Sarah works lunch in a Subway shop
building sandwiches for construction men
putting up a skyscraper down the street.
The men pick their own bread and meat and let
Sarah pick their cheese because instead of a cookie
with their lunch they’d prefer Sarah after work.
Every month or so the crew changes and Sarah picks
the man who looks the best, says the nicest things
and agrees to meet him for coffee later at Starbucks.
If he passes muster over lattes, Sarah takes him home
and finds herself an hour later staring at the ceiling while
he pulls on his boots, says he’ll call and goes home.
None of the men has ever called or is seen again
except at Subway where he now picks his own cheese.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem