LUNCH?


The square table sits four this afternoon.
Four from seperate paths.
Aiming to smile with the day.
Unhindered. Unwarranted.

The juices flow.
Creation beckons them with arms stretched across.
Thoughts tumble down like
Cascading white rapids on crack.
Fuelled by the twirling strands of nicotine smoke,
Harking their prescence.

Incidents are exchanged at a feverish pace.
They believe this day shall end with them.
And vice versa.
Yet they conform to the common stand adopted by humanity
To live to see the light of another day.
Another day sang froid.

Dusk sets in as the bubbles in the wine disappear.
Words are spoken without the utterance of a single syllable.
The laughter subsides. Stops short of dying away altogether.
"It's better that way", he said.
"Hope to meet you all next week."
We acknowledge in silence.