It’s something I would dearly love,
A lingering hour over some laboured coffee,
Endless silent memos, axioms and nuances, copies
Of all thought never filed, perhaps an argument, a sweet denial; gloves
That fit and one long last diatribe about the meaning of it all
In the suffocating smoke of numbing consummation
from billows of noxious odours from the bar and grill.
I would cherish nonsense from the waitresses about the change of shifts
and what she should but does not leave the busboys; a shrill
Declaration that it’s closing time with no one left but me to heed the call.
The betterment of the world requires a slightly jaundiced nod
To the righteous riots of the right, and lascivious liaisons to the left of things;
Feeble salutes to régimes of former times and how things used to be, such rings
Around the bathtub and imperatives as flush the overshadowed
wonders of the cellphone and the iPod.
Well, after all,…it’s late and I’ve some few important things to do
Before I hit the sack with little left of lean and loads of fat to chew.