Lunchtime

 

When I don’t go out to talk lunch talk,

I stay home and we eat lunch.

 

We don’t talk but we make delicious food noise.

 

I let you play with fruits that stain –

cast their color onto our old wooden table.

 

I drop the silver, then pick it up,

to watch your face hear it crash.

 

A wet check, a torn book, a cracked phone –

proof in my hand that your new body wills a mark.

 

Again, I offer you the dirty shoe you love to chew.

 

Together we prepare for a time when things

might not be good.

 

Written 2013

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43 thoughts on “Lunchtime

  1. Having a good friend, human or pet, – special gift.
    Nice poem. Like the play to get prepared for ‘time when things might not be good.’ Hope everything will work excellent in your world.

  2. What a wonderfully generous and playful perspective you have offered. I really like your style – you are very comfortable with a pen.

  3. “Today I offer you the dirty shoe you love to chew.” Something oddly comforting in this. Little inconveniences, but disaster can be soothed with something given and familiar. Very nice.

  4. you are making a big deposit in the love bank.

    When my girls were little and I had to babysit I used to put their snacks in bowls in the floor and let them pretend to be puppies.

    thanks for bringing forth the memory.

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