He spent thirty years in the Navy,
so I understand his affinity for the food.
He pours half a shaker of salt into his hand –
too much comes out if you pour it –
dumps the lot onto his grey dinner and says,
one thing about this place?
The meals are terrific.
A jeezly piece of roast beef, so tender
I take my teeth out to eat it.
He tosses a few extra
grains of salt over his left shoulder,
into the blood pressure machine.
For good luck, he says.