Chewing Fingernails Ahead of Lunch

It isn't like Patricia to be late like this.
I check the clock and find another
Minute's passed. The world darkens
As I do. It fills with perils: muggers,
Sinkholes, someone else, who's won
Her love. I watch, in grief, as those
At other tables, friends and lovers,
Laugh, and wonder if they'll sense
My sorrow when I rise and leave
Alone, as I've decided I will do, but
Here's Patricia, rushing up. She
Drops her jacket, smiles and sits,
And gasps, as she is out of breath,
"I couldn't find my purse."



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 53 times
Written on 2013-05-03 at 14:56

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