“Going nowhere … isn’t about turning your back
on the world; it’s about stepping away now and then so that you can see the
world more clearly and love it more deeply.” Pico Iyer
The café lights hang low
we are going nowhere
not even when the waitress
restless for her own quiet evening
vacuums our feet.
Here, the food comes thick
on melamine glistens with
salt, my soup wrinkles my tongue
but is ready almost before
I finish pronouncing its name.
We are going nowhere
watching ourselves reflected
in one another’s faces
a slow sweet stepping aside from
usual, shifting our lives
between other fingers
across other place-mats.
Peering into the murky soup
I find a last noodle
swerving my determined chopstick
like friendship, like the crying child,
love and peace, contentment
the harder I try to catch and hold it,
the further it gets from my grip.
Love it, Lucy.
ReplyDelete(When/why did you add the last few lines?)
I dunno why they came up in a different font...? Maybe they spell it out a little too strong, did you think?
Deleteyep, doesn't need it (a bit show and tell at that point), but I should say very loudly this is truly a good poem, Lucy!
DeleteThanks Efi, much appreciated loudness!
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DeleteDear Lucy, given how terrific the poem is, I don't think those last lines are really needed either. :)
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