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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “Question Everything” cc&d, v280 (the February 2018 issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:

enjoy this writing from David J. Thompson along with photography by Mark Myavec in the free 6" x 9" 2018 PDF file chapbook: “It Might Be Serious This Time” (click the cover image or the title for the free PDF file)				Order this as a 2018 6" x 9" perfect-bound ISBN# book with poems and photography! Click on the book cover to order It Might Be Serious This Time as a book at any time!

Order this writing in the issue book Across the Wall the cc&d May-Aug. 2018 issues & chapbooks collection book		get the 372 page May-Aug. 2018 cc&d magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN#035; paperback book:

Always Alice

David J. Thompson

This afternoon I saw Gertrude Stein
at the grocery store. I couldn’t help
but recognize her, she was taking up
a whole bench by herself like a queen
just inside the automatic doors.
She still looks like that Picasso portrait,
except much wider now with dove gray hair
cut short like a Roman Caesar and wearing
a quilted vest and heavy skirt the size of a circus tent.
I stopped short and stared straight at her,
but she refused to make eye contact.
I stood there thinking how I wanted
to ask about Hemingway and F. Scott,
and all that other Lost Generation stuff
I loved. I needed to tell her that I once lived
in Paris, too, took some photos of the building
where she lived with that big poodle
and all those fabulous guests and paintings
on the Rue de Fleurus. And had she seen
that Woody Allen movie and what did she think
of Kathy Bates’s performance?
I really wanted to know, but no matter
how long I stood there practically right in front
of her with both hands sagging full of beer
and groceries, she just kept looking past me
back into the store where I guess now
Alice, always Alice, was shopping, probably
for brownie mix. Finally, I gave up and walked
out into the bright heat of the parking lot
which reminded me that actually I had never understood
a word Stein had written, muttered to myself
that a rose is a rose is a rose is a lot of bullshit,
is a lot of bullshit, is just a lot of bullshit.

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