Poor Man Beggar Man
She tinkers change someone left on the table
waiting for brunch at the Bluebonnet Bistro,
a hole in the wall with thick on the windows.
Lost deep to thought, this rock ‘n roll liberal
in her mid-twenties and sage satin stole,
pockets a penny that weighs down the satchel
strapped to her shoulder and swung under table,
asway just above cherry red laced stilettos.
From a corner booth table, a sitting man stares
an impertinent stare at her pendulum satchel
and long dangled legs that sway to a torso
wrapped tight in proof of a Wolf Parade show
back in twenty fourteen - unable to go
back down below where he yearns to obey
all known from each of each one of her toes.
A poem about the diminishing return of memories as they're reduced and bid bare by time using an abbreviated variation of the sestina form.
Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2018