Lunch, Dear?

Poem By ask ing

Melting into the sidewalk of the café while
he talks at her and she draws a nodding head.

There is the homeless man with his cap and coat
shaking a Styrofoam cup at her and she can’t complain.

Someone brings her iced tea and options
while she watches the light change from green to red.

She sees his words taking shape and floating
down the street with strings attached to them.

She sees her life before her in chalk drawings
and watches the rain wash her away.

Comments about Lunch, Dear?

I feel it. Feel like i'm experiencing everything with you in this. A fine, highly artistic write. xxGoldy
This is one of the greatest I have read on this site. Whoever you are, you are good. To put it bluntly.
This is a powerful poem. It worked for me so well, I could probably tell you exactly where it put me in mental imagery, I pictured a market around 7th street in Los Angeles, a table outside, a flurry of activity. The heat, the nodding head, I enjoyed this.
Ask... you're really back... and hopefully won't be washed away again... I loved this one last time around. It has just the right amount of the surreal to give it power over the reader.. as we try to picture the series of offbeam and arresting 3D images that culminate in a vision/sensation of impermanence, insubstantiality, even futility perhaps... It's brief, it's dense, it's provocative and more besides; it has real emotional weight; a very clever piece of poetry which demonstrates your unusual strengths... xxx jim


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