Jon Schneider has also been published in TriQuarterly and the Virginia Quarterly Review. Renaissance Coffee & Tea Company, Throwing Knives After Lunch Jon Schneider Don hands me a beer and shows me how to grip        a paring knife by the blade,    flings it at the back wall of the restaurant,        and it’s past three, still no rain, but my knee hurts, the Florida birds hush, and the air        is thick. I take my shirt off,    and we wait for tomorrow’s coffee to roast,        taking turns with the knife, until Becky brings out more beer and more knives,        and Jeff comes outside, says,    The dishes are done! and we cheer        and drink to Jeff, and Becky throws a bread knife at the ground and Don helicopters        one at the wall and Paula    comes over with a new scarf, says,        It’s cold somewhere! and we all agree and she pours a glass of white wine,        picks up a butter knife, and I say,    Give me the big knife! then throw it        like a spear. Don lights a cigarette and the girl with the boots walks by and waves,        yells, I’m moving to San Francisco!    Paula says, Have a beer—it’s hot out,        but she’s already gone, and Jeff comes out, says, The dishes are done! and we say, We know!        Clean knives! I get more beer    and some train comes tearing by, and the windows        shake, a dog barks and Don screams until the whistle stops, then launches a steak knife        at a freight car, lights a cigarette,    and Becky smokes too, and the coffee        roasts and the heat and the smoke and the beer and the gnats hit the honeysuckle on the fence        and no one can see anything    in this four o’clock sun except that        red knife-wall, and I say, Give me a bigger knife! as the guy with the mohawk        rides by on his bike, screams,    War is the destruction of restaurants!        and we all laugh and the rain clouds lift over the oak and I throw the bigger knife        as hard as I can and it hits    a soft spot, goes three inches deep        and it rains and this old restaurant and the pines, oaks, and picnic tables        all cool down, and we drink,    wait for the moon and whistle,        and nothing gets easier and we know it.