Consolation Over Dinner Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Consolation over dinner
Which is very much vicarious
In the nature of a sweet disposition –
As the utensils clattered,
My bellicose state has exacerbated –
I am no more anguished,
Worse! I am chagrined
I am muted over tempura and rice,
And the soda losing its carbon
The night, effervescent as ever
The cold wind embellishes a lust for subsistence
But never did it inspire action

I found hope as I scrolled,
Deciphering words from a stranger,
And at the latter,
I have found that even the storms cease
To lambaste
I understood that tears stop from streaming
And reach the point of petrifaction
Am I consoled over dinner?
Am I lulled over the barrage of defeat?
I do not know,
I don’t want to know.

I must admit,
I am as acquiesce as a servile beast
I am swoon over with flattery
Or chauvinism –
But hardly did I ever believe
That hope flutters like the lashes
Of the Sun in a paltry day of discontent
Until one night,
I received a phone call, as earnest as a mother’s
Night wails: Nothing ever lasts –
But tell me, in the mendaciloquence of your very state,
Why do I feel infinite in the time of your adamantine
Delusion towards the verity
That when you left,
I have ceased to live?