Lunch Poem by L MILTON HANKINS

The old guy sits across from me at table
On Wednesday afternoons, our usual meeting
For twenty years when we are able
And our favorite restaurant has seating.
If that is not the case, we visit the drive-thru
Order a burger and fries and drive to the park
Where we eat and watch the squirrels strew
Leftovers we toss their way and quarrel
At us for having only McDonalds to share
No peanuts or bread or tastier fare.
We talk about issues that matter to us
Try solving the world's problems on our beat.
It's what the average folk call killing time
What else have old men left to dare
When Wednesdays' calendar calls to dine
Why should anyone particularly care
If two old men get together and share
Lunch.