Bringing with them the aroma of garlic, Parmesan cheese, and fresh basil,
a parade of waiters entered the room.
Some carried trays laden with pasta a la Florentine ;
some carried bowls of salade nicoise, redolent of the Riviera.
German potato salad, as if we were in an outdoor restaurant overlooking the Rhine River.
They set the food in the center of the room
on a round oak table that was covered with blue and white oil cloth.

I looked around the room. There was no one whom I knew.
I thought about Jeff and the boys, unloading bags of food from the car
while I spread the table cloth on a shaded picnic table under the redwoods.