A
Compulsive Mind
I
came across a specious stranger
w/
a compulsive mind & proclivities
for
nippy jests & cataleptic ironies
plain
clothed w/ gold-rimmed specs
he
fidgeted while writing a princely
letter
to someone I imagine to be an
attentive
listener to be able to pour
over
the pools of words jotted down
w/
a basic pen on unadorned paper.
He
caught me ogling, leered & said,
“I am beginning with an ending. It’s a
long story to
spell out in short words.
Dare I be
evasive, obfuscate? Nah.”
My
silence was met with a shrug of
his
reedy shoulders hunched over the
table
as if keeping his bustle a secret.
He
considered staying soft but spoke
& revealed he was reciting rather a dull
& revealed he was reciting rather a dull
detail
how
his school lunches as a boy were
always
wrapped in wax paper toted in
brown
bags w/ a drab apple that left a
dent
on the top of the thin bread slices.
He
then blurted w/out being prompted
how
profoundly he missed his dearly
departed
Mother even if she loved w/
a
severe tenor & skinny fingered hand,
“She was beautiful but so very brutal.”
The
specious stranger returned to his
task
at hand & I departed. I often think
of
him now many days later & wonder
how
his handwritten memorandum was
received.
***
I couldn't complete last night's writing prompt from my pal so as per usual I pecked on my commute and in between work spurts. The prompt was to use the word obfuscate somewhere in the poem.
Fun, fun, fun!
In propinquity,
Nic
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