by Paulette Demers Turco
       (after Edward Hopper, 1942)

“Phillies,” a clean, well-lighted place, so clean,
so cinematic—is a camera set?
Will one zoom in to film the sassy diva
in her ruby dress, her hair and lips
in complimenting reds? She’s just off-center
of the varnished cherry diner counter,
eyeing her likely-polished fingernails.
Her other arm’s extended toward the hand
of an inattentive gentleman
in blue beside her in his felt Fedora.
While two men watch, one behind the counter,
night casts no reflection from outside
the pane, though shadows loom on city brick.
Wait. A canvas cannot call for “Action.”


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