I wrote a poem today.
I was sitting in the booth at the coffee shop reading William James' Varieties of Religious Experience when it occurred to me to write a poem. I wish that happened more often, but for the sake of posterity, here it is:
* * *
When the cashier told me they were out of whole-wheat bagels,
I responded, "That's okay; I'm accustomed to deprivation."
Afterward, I called myself a freak.
"Who talks like that?" I thought.
What I want right now
Is for a complete stranger
To sit down in this booth beside me.
What's more, I want to live in a world
Where such a thing is normal.
If that woman there
Sat down next to me right now,
Instead of "Who the hell are you?"
I would say, "Hello."
And tell her what my name is today.
* * *
Anyway, I think it fairly certain that nobody will ever read this blog, so I leave it to literary historians to uncover this trifle when I am dead. If you read this, please let me know anonymously.
1 Comments:
Hello, my name is Cheryl. May I join you for a moment in your booth? I happened to wander by, so I thought I might join you for a moment. Actually, we're not complete strangers as I have had the luxury of reading your thoughts...but I had to say hello to anyone that solemnly eats tacos by moonlight. So, hello to you, and I'm glad to have crossed your path.
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