Picnic
just so
mid-afternoon
happy-go-nutty
it
was imperative
to
escape the dusk
atmosphere
of my
fern-clogged
attic
office
& step out
into
the depths of
thick-muted
sun
a picnic I
thought
or
a pique-nique
as
the 17th century
gourmands
termed
it
gourmands who
brought
their own
wine
when dining
w/ friends
but
for
me
alone
a
hike away from
the
mutterings &
spatterings
& din
of
the day
just so
the
sound of a slow
ticking
town clock
provides
a certain
rest
to
accompany my
out-of-hand
eating
foregoing
plastic
partitioned
dishes
for
a fresh deli treat
a muffuletta
thinly
sliced layers
of
mortadella
genoa
salami &
capocollo
picante
mingled
w/ creamy
farmstead
Swiss cheese
sharp
provolone &
a
savory chunky olive
salad
spread between
thick
cuts of a
Sicilian loaf
sealed
tightly in wax
paper
and saran wrap
to go
just so
my
chosen park bench
carefully
selected for
its
quiet locale
I regard young
folk
tossing balls
flicking
Frisbees
&
whirling
hula-
hoops around
waists
& limbs
even necks
I
consider a few pages
of
my book
dangerously
funny
for reading in
public
& embarrassing
oneself
w/ irrepressible
laughter
so
I opt earbuds & the
soft
sounds of
Tim Buckley
while
I nibble & ogle
just so
***
This morning’s prompt, a picnic. I opted
for a solo show since that’s kinda how I’ve been feeling of late – solitary,
observant, quiet, guarded, and even pensive – however you want to coin it.
While I wrote I wished it was my reality but for now I will have to settle for
living inside of a poem.
In propinquity,
Nic
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