Not Knowing
Is a double negative
Is it lunch
Will I know
Should I wonder
Here in my
Late Night
Will it be a time to eat
When David Letterman
Is over with
Here in the West
Of the USA
I often wonder
What it is
That takes up your day
Your time
Do you really work
Until Six P.M.
I heard that
Is when a train comes
For the working I think
Why do I dwell on whether
It is your midday meal
Because if you are like me
It could be your breakfast
Having coffee and coke slushies
After a good pint of milk
In a hurry sleeping too long
Maybe it is your dinner
As that is what my grandma
Called the meal at your time now
And dinner was called supper then
Breakfast came way too early
As men arose at five or six in the morning
To go about their day and women fed them
I cooked at seven in the evening my time
Baked golden-brown potato patties
Green peppers Walla Walla sweet onions
Italian turkey sausage fried up well
Sugar-sweet snap peas steamed
Salad with tomatoes lettuce cucumbers
Home-made ranch dressing green onions
It would be a weird breakfast
If it was your time for you man
This food that I made in my time
I think in time and race myself
Not the superwoman I once was
It is verily frustrating for me to relax
To take on Fifty-three years old
Not knowing if it is a forty-four year olds
Lunch after David Letterman is over
In another time and place
Then back to my time
Where I think too much about you eating.
