As I dashed up the road a mile or so
in a forrest colored ’96 Mazda 626
wheeled into Arby’s with words in my mind
no pen to corral them on a scrap of page
I ordered my chicken cordon blu combo meal
still fumbling with words credit cards,
cups, ice and change.
I found an old toothpick and a ketchup cup
and wrote the cherry words:
Life is giving dictation to me
and I didn’t even cross my legs
(the ketchup is just making the paper look runny)
it is saying I don’t plan anything…anymore
people’s needs plan my life for me
I said “ok, but what if in the end
it was better than doing nothing?”
(right about here I switched to honey-mustard to see if it leaves a better stain)
I said “life can’t really be planned anyway…right?”
the poem said that was a lame excuse (and I should switch to the three pepper sauce because when you smear mustard it looks gross)
the poem said I would not be doing nothing
if I weren’t helping the people who think they need me
I said “it is getting damned hard to tell the difference”
The sandwich was good by the way.
Back to my original point:
Life is going too fast….AND I have no say in it
The poem said: “learn short hand
keep your legs crossed…carry a steno notebook
AND A PEN THAT WRITES better poems than this one
that I wrote with a broken toothpick on my lunch hour
using condoments and thinking of you.
At Lunch
