Mayor of the Lunch Counter
He turns to join a conversation from a nearby booth...
Mayor of the Lunch Counter
He sits with cane looped over his arm turns to join a conversation from a nearby booth he heard rattlesnake launched an explanation how a sidewinder chased his friend how toxic they can be when young. He tells me – sitting three stools away wondering why I order my BLT with toast that scrapes my gums – how he lived in a canyon in Washington where a bald eagle cruised the river scooping a fish only to have it stolen by an ospry. He lingers in his chair, whipped cream collapses on his chocolate shake. His eyes fade with why he had to move here and he tells me there are things you miss.
This poem was published in Moonshine Ink, May 2007.
Sue writes…
About twenty-five years ago, I attended a writers’ conference in Carson City, NV. When we took a lunch break, I ate at a little mom and pop cafe. This incident happened during that hour break. When the lecturer in an afternoon poetry class asked us to write a poem, this is what flowed out of my pen.
Read more from Sue Cauhape on her page, “Ring Around the Basin”:
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Simply perfect, Sue!
sweet rhythms