David Morris

Lunch with Lazy Susan

David Morris

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After Caroline Bird

The bored arses in need of a top up

—so hurry humbling food! The double

date going the way of the tagged along.

The blind date enmeshed in calculation.

Which goes no further after the silver

tray leaves empty-handed. The couple

whose silence lolls like a valley stream.

The foot which flails at the heart for

hanging back to let head hold sway

—go on Son, tell him you love her. The

waiter who takes the olive bowl before

you can say, “Oi, there was still skin

stuck to the stone." Who goes,“Uh-oh”

for the aperitivo Things Were Better Then.

Who hands you the crumpled note saying,

“Get your coat, the rendevous´s down

the dunes riding vicissitude.” The system

which hasn´t noticed it´s eaten until

Wait a Sec, What´s with the crumbs?

Then a race to conjure up the taste,

buds sent into overdrive. When you say,

“Fuck lunch,” and like war generals over

world maps, go straight to the snorting

of lines—men sneezed out on all sides.

When it´s better not to see things

coming, the way a boy on a bridge

delights in a train from behind. When

up ahead is an enfilade, and you have

nothing up your sleeve. When the lines of

boxes fade, and each day says “Go figure!”

Who orders the pie, “but no cream Please,

I´m trying for a third digit.” Who opts for

the banana boat; in touch of sand but

how about just one more turning over?

David Morris

David Morris is from Kilkenny, currently living in Berlin. He is a regular participant in the Over The Edge online poetry workshop, and enjoys writing poetry about all sorts.