Caring Less For The Loquacious Poem by RIC BASTASA

seated, formal, behaved,
and stopping to read the
morning paper,
the tv is on for the
usual morning news,
the cup of coffee is on
the breakfast table,
the usual rice and sunny
side up fried egg
and dried fish to
with your wish for
the wholesome thing,
salt and sugar and
something sour
like a piece of
lemon to accentuate
your need for a variety,

in front is a woman with
curly hair, big earrings like
a mystic,
she speaks in crystal ball
reminding you
of your inevitable
pain in the future,
you are her slave and
you listen,
though you are not
interested,
(shit, shit, you have these
words hammering in
your mind)
finally, you take a glimpse
of her mouth,
they look like scissors,
her nose looks like
a wrench,
she looks older
than you think,
cranky like an old
rice mill,
you like to get rid
of her,
you know this woman,
her name,
and her being a
part of you
even for life,

you create a certain distance
like Mars and Pluto,
farther away, you settle on
the orbit of earth,
this marble planet, known
for its coolness
and tolerance for
evil.

you're not quitting,
you love that dragon inside
your hot, creamy coffee,
and then you smile, and tell yourself,
after she had spoken
her piece,

it is a beautiful day
it is a real beautiful life out there.

you step inside your car, drive for work,
and let life manage your life somehow.