the whittler

sun shines on a small diner
built a century past
on what is still a quiet off street
in the little town
we enter, take a table
the business is slow

two quiet women are at one table
three happy workers lunch at the counter
they are having a good old time
we hear the youngest tells the others
he is going to whittle this weekend
then shows his new large very sharp pocket knife
they all marvel

then the older says what ever you do
be sure you don’t cut off your thumb
of course not, the younger says, but why say that?
cause the guy says, you’re going to need it
to pick up your finger
much laughter filled the room