Carnal Knowledge

Like Dali's eternal clock,
the red, lace tablecloth
deigns to have its own
as it drips off
the edge of a small, round,
wrought iron table--                                      for two.

Minus plates, napkins and silverware,   
the customers vanish--                                 unseen,
                 
becoming their own drama
of life--                                                        waiting.

Their carnal brothers
of cigarette-smoking fame
languish under an umbrella
on a table nearby--                                 the owners,

of service, of complacency,
wait for prosperity to appear
from the vanishing point of perspective
they've yet to realize.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

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