Apparently, his poetry is not published online.
At the Lunch Counter
A girl, fifteen perhaps,
licking her fingertips,
of butter and salt
off her blue pants,
cheek muscles rippling.
Nathan who is blind
sidles to the stool beside her.
They talk, he pompously,
she making faces
he can't see,
telling the boys she isn't serious.
I'm Barbara, she says,
blowing her cheeks out,
wrinkling her forehead,
Fred Ward's Barbara.
I have red hair!
since her hair is brown
fishes at the temples.
But he can't see
she stiffens and frowns
wanting us to go away
so she can be kind.
~by Alden Nowlan
It looks to me as though the girl is showing off in front of her friends. However, she'd really rather be nice to the blind boy.
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