At Lunch I

It's the middle of the day, his first day in a new role.
To celebrate he tries something completely normal and goes to a place nearby where he has been told others go often: a pleasant eatery, now filling with the daily lunch crowd.
He takes it all in, recording every last detail like it would be lost forever. He observes it all, noticing the tables crowded with big parties, noticing the tables crowded with small parties, notices the small groups of single diners like himself, notices the pretty business girls and how professional looking the men are, then, in his drunken gazing he becomes aware of himself: a solitary figure at a table next  to the wall on his first day.
His food arrives, remarkably good. He takes the bill and pays (Noticing they charge for water!!!) before heading back to work, probably never to return alone to that place again.

Frustration, or, An Honest Try

The student stills and listens intently, cocking his head to one side. He readies his pen, preparing to write. After a long while of not touching his paper, he looks around confused, yet determined to not appear so and failing at this. Every bit of light reflected off his eyes cry out the question “What should I write about?” He stills again and listens..., willing his mind into a recorder. Others are writing up and down the room, busy with their enigmatic scribbles, attention focused on their papers as they listen. Not moving his body an inch, the student’s eyes dart from side to side, as if yelling “What are they writing about?” and “Am I learning?” and “What is there to learn?” He looks up... listens. He listens to the instructor... He listens to the sounds of more writing..., but his page remains blank. Franticly glancing up, down, side to side now, his eyes almost scream “I should be writing, but what?” and “Nothing stands out!” The student looks down at the table, then back up again. His eyes continue with “What have others written?” “What is there to write?” once more, and “Nothing stands out!” again... The student stills himself... takes a deep breath, and cocking his head to one side, listens.

Almost

I sit here, in a chair, back to the wall.
I watch my surroundings, watching and listening to people, all busy with their lives.
A man in a striped shirt walks by, looks around,
then sit at a table alone.
Someone joins him. He has no backpack... Smiles, and eats.
A few voices sticking out over the general drone of the lunch hall. A piano begins playing out in the open.
An almost familiar face sits a few tables away.
Almost... familiar and yet not the face I know.
And here I sit. Almost alone and yet in very pleasant company.
Someone asks ask her how her day went. No answer.
She is busy with...
does it matter?
He ask again. No response.

It’s peaceful, out here.

[Locked] out

People gather outside a building, waiting to be let in. Some stand about, some stare. All have places to be at that moment in time.
The wind rustles through the landscape, across the back of my shirt as I lean against the post of a stair rail. It, a part of the landscape ---, and I, as well.
A girl -, and others are there too. All sitting, waiting for ---. Some choose to use the time talking about what they had for lunch today and their plans for the weekend. Some try to use the time.
I -, sit within full view of the sun, warm in its caressing touch. It drapes down the side of my face with its miracle.
The doors open, and the people enter.

Ode to a Most Excellent Dish

Pizza, he said.

And there was pizza,

in the fridge from the other night.

And he rejoiced.


The End.

Calm before a rain

The clouds aren’t necessarily the first thing you notice when you leave your sanctuary. The darkness? Yes. That’s it. Day seems to have a darker shade before it rains. People carry about their work before a rain. Life is normal, if not more peaceful ---, almost as if should you remain very relaxed and very still, you could hear the earth sighing in relief, fully ready to receive the cleansing shower.

Darkness ---. Of course it is the clouds that cause this, but they are never noticed first. Maybe third or fourth, or if they’re really lucky second. The effort they must go through to even be noticed at all ---! As if, eyes full of tears, they must ball and weep with loud cries throwing electrical tantrums as wide as a city to command a peoples’ attention so seeped in excess and distractions of their own device.

And so it rains---, and people pull out their umbrellas and galoshes and call their friends and hurry to work and indoors and places they can watch without fear of the wet ---, and, and, and ---, and complain.

S.G. and the end of school

I heard you sing in the choir.
You were 17, thin, intelligent, lovely.
You had a beautiful voice, the kind girls should be jealous of.
We would spend time together every other morning,
you and I.
Others were there, but went unseen.
You became more distant---, more distant.
You were special, but I never told you.
Would it have mattered?
We grew apart and you became ever more distant---.
And one day everything ended and our ways were parted.
Was life kind to you where you were taken?
Did you lift yourself up, beyond all expectations?
... or were you crushed beneath the tides of chaos and unexpectedness which life carries so faithfully with itself.
Where are you now and do you still remember?