Friday, May 22, 2015

cold lunch

Esmerelda sits beside

the ten ton granite boulder

pried from some Pleistocene moraine


embedded now between

the blue-mirrored towers

of the downtown mini plaza.


With nibbling lips unkissed

since the previous July,

she picks ant-sized chips

of black nail polish

off the slender fingers

of her un-ringed left hand,


while her right scrolls down

an endless screen

of food truck exotica

sent by friends unseen

for weeks on end:


Bacon wrapped ‘round anything

promising to restore

the sizzle that has dribbled off

since boyfriend Bill's retreat.


Key lime infused elixirs

whisper drink me and I’ll whisk you

off to sugary beaches where

the breeze is warm and sweet,


as if treats for her belly

could satisfy the cravings

of more Southern regions.


The noon sun slips

behind the peak

of the latest high rise lair

and a shadow spills

across the plaza.


Esmerelda rises

from her stony seat,

drops her lunch bag

in the maw of the trash bin

on the corner. Sparrows quickly

swoop to vanish the crumbs

she's left scattered at her feet.


Tom, who waits

for the signal to change

across the street, admires

the gleam of Esmeralda's

long black hair. He smiles

as they pass by each other

in the crosswalk, but fails

to catch her eye.

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