Wasteful Meeting (a poem)

Wasteful Meeting (poem) by David A. Church

I don’t feel
the need to share my sights
aloud,
a first.
Instead I let a scene unfold
through time
without my interference
in a location
of my first acquaintance.
It’s a static cabin
with tables, chairs found in canteens,
empty except for vending machines,
the first depot
to invite me.
A man sits me down
and asks if I’ve checked
my nuts so far this week,
until another man arrives,
similar to the first.
Then the coffee dispenser
spurts its guts,
first on the floor,
next into the air supply,
left for a vacant cleaner.
So I turn
away from the fat,
the foul language,
the diseased bins
and see horses grazing
in open fields,
well before the first foals of Spring.


David A. Church

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s