On a lace tablecloth that covered a long wooden picnic table
was a blue ceramic plate piled high with fresh Bay shrimp,
parsley, Boston lettuce, slices of yellow lemon.
As if transported from the formal dining room
of the New England home where Dorothy grew up,
avocado halves stuffed with crab --
each garnished with parsley, paprika, and ground white pepper;
each on a separate white plate --
were arrayed on the table.
I remembered the way winter sun
was filtered through heavy curtains in that house,
the individual salads artfully arranged on delicate china,
gold-framed portraits of family members.
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