eating dinner with Fred is a great spectator sport
he is as powerful and aimless as lightning
searching for victims among diners at the Chinese restaurant
who grimace like fighters hit with solid uppercuts
shocked by Fred’s table manners.

the list of Fred’s boorish behavior is as extensive
as the selection of Chinese food on the menu as he:
eats with his hands
laughs wildly at his own jokes like a hyena on speed
stares at the breasts of the young woman in the low cut red dress shouting
”Look at those Jugs.”
lifts his rumpled shirt to show me a chest tattoo that says “Fuck Life”.
loudly tells me about the time he was in prison
says “I hope everything comes out all right,” whenever anyone goes to the crapper and
tries to leave chump change in his water glass as a tip for the waiter.

this doesn’t bother me
it is predictable when Fred doesn’t take his medication.
but my luck craps out that steamy summer night
like a horseplayer who arrives too late to
place what would have been a winning bet
when Fred’s Fortune Cookie reads,
"Don’t trust your friends with important secrets.”
all hell breaks loose as Fred starts throwing egg rolls at me yelling,”Et tu, Brute!”
when two Chinese waiters try to restrain him
he gets his Shakespearian characters mixed up
gesturing toward me befitting the finest Broadway actor, Fred says
“Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look.”
not knowing much Shakespeare, the Chinese manager thinks Fred is still hungry.
“You hungry mister. You hungry. Take, Take more food. Free. Just go.”
as Fred and I leave the manager says reflexively
“I hope you like"
"Come again.”