Yesterday at lunch at the mall south of here.

Among the food court restaurants from many countries, and surprisingly good food.

A table under the skylight.

Two old men. With hats and jackets from 40 years ago. Playing cards. The cards were bent and dull- the arc of fingernails. The game wasn't recognizable. They spoke in tongues. Of some kind or other. Just not immediately recognizable either.

But I suspect it was slavic in nature. Just because.

And I think that they probably have memories of apple trees in bloom in the old country and the thighs of young peasant women. And the smell of the soil after it rained. And the smell of the machinists shop. And the smell of the ocean while crossing. And the smell of cabbage in the apartment hallway in the new place.