nick low

Lunch - Poem by nick low

Will you respect me less?

As we sit, folded fingers at the ready,

blindly probing for back in the day feelings

over a dish of the day meal in this place that sounded

Oh so, Oh so appealing.

Can we rescue this?

As we look, Through moulded sunglasses

and I catch a glimpse

of another disaster

that's around my corner.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 14, 2011

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