Good Times

“You’re Abe Froman?”

            -“Yes.”

“The Sausage King of Chicago?”

“Right this way, Mr. Froman.”

            Car doors slam.  Inside now.  Smiles shot, jokes cracked, hugs exchanged. 

            “What’s going on?” 

            “Nothing at all.”

“Take the tortilla chip out of your nose.  You’re such a jackass.”

Laughter.  Almost until it hurts.  It dies down.  Heavier conversations begin. 

Invading a field trip.  Staring at canvases, into the dots.  Looking over bridges and into the deep end of swimming pools.