Autocrat at the Lunch Table

Stanford Med during a twelve-week winter infectious disease rotation, it just happened 

that every Sunday I had lunch in the clinic’s empty waiting room with one noble man 

who many years before was honored by Stockholm in chemistry then Oslo for peace. 

Without ever expecting or getting anything in return except a similarly silent brown 

bag companion; his wiggy hair, bulging eyes and goofy smile unpredictably offered  

strawberries, oranges, chilis, bell peppers, papaya—or a handful of capsules I refused.

Though I missed a few Sundays with bad colds, he missed none. Once the great old man 

mumbled Ice the kicker, which made me wonder if lobby TVs were tuned to NFL football. 

But they weren’t.  Could the towering DNA figure really be reaching out to break our ice?

Mostly he would daydream while I ate. I never said a word till the last lunch. A bit jumpy, 

Sorry this is my final session couldn’t’ve been more pleasant, popped out of my mouth. 

After a minute LP staccatoed, Talking and war are overrated. Meditate. Take Vitamin C. 

About the poet

Late-phase often graphic poet arrived in seventh decade, aphorist, humorist or sometimes meanderist; Gerard Sarnat’s a multiple Pushcart/Best of Net Award nominee. He’s a Harvard Medical School-trained physician, Stanford professor, and healthcare CEO. Currently, he’s devoting energy and resources to dealing with climate justice by serving on Climate Action Now’s board. Sarnat has belonged to the longest-running U.S. Jewish-Palestinian Dialogue Group. Gerry’s been married since 1969 and has three kids, six grandsons, and looks forward to future granddaughters. gerardsarnat.com