when it rains it erupts

Apr 11, 2006 15:23

Version 2

"Standing in a lunch time line"

Standing in a lunch time line,
eating because I should and not because I'm hungry,
I listen to a quartet of harpy birds
singing the blues of having to wait until someone shuts up
just to get their chance to speak.
Red Hooves is telecommuting ahead of me.
She thinks she's a lamb though she bleats like a goat.
Momentarily I consider the consequences
of setting off a thermonuclear self-implosion,
but instead I settle for a clenched fist
and decide to have a root beer today.
Maybe because I'm bitter - or is that too cute?

I place my order; it's the same faux-Italian.
There's a warrior in civilization's shackles behind the counter.
This man's ancestors worked the earth of Mother Africa
like my family once tilled the soil of Ireland
and now we stand apart in a foreign land.
He serves me food from a warming plate,
then we both shuffle on with the rest of the day.
I want to tell him we're brothers-in-arms
because Americans don't even know their own dreams,
but instead I grab my cellophane sandwich
and sit down.

poetry, writing

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