Prose Poem

I’m trying to wrangle my Patreon posts into a spreadsheet, and rediscovered this prose poem I wrote two years ago. I loved this one, so I figured I’d share it so you could love it, too!

Lunch Counter

I’m sorry to stare. I sometimes have hallucinations and can’t always tell what’s there. Just a moment ago, I fell in love with the cashier. I looked up and it struck us both like the bell sounding downtown while people in suits and sharp shoes scurry to find lunch. I couldn’t make eye contact with her anymore, and she dropped the receipt because that bell was still ringing in our ears. You walked by while I was eating the deli sandwich (ham & swiss), and I thought you looked like a Greek soldier: sharp chin, slitted mask. When you turned, your eye gleamed golden and I stopped chewing because the world went two-dimensional and flat. You left before I could get a good look, and now I’ll spend the rest of my day wondering what magic I missed.



If you enjoyed this, you might want to pick up a copy of Beak, Full of Tongue. It’s exclusively on Etsy, from a local print shop, and I include a few little extras with each purchase. Or, you could hop over to my Patreon. I post a monthly poem and do a separate poem on postcards if that’s your thing. Thanks so much!

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