from 'fiction', by the lucksmiths

Invited to a barbecue
I found refuge in the kitchen
Discussing post-war US literature
With a girl whose upper arm read “fiction”
Like it might have been typewritten

I asked her its significance
She said she sometimes took reminding
What she wanted to be doing
Whether reading it or writing
I admitted admiration
For both typeface and intent
And said more softly — sotto voce —
I knew too well what she meant
She just smiled
And in a while she went