Musings by The Poet Loriet

Broke

I sit in a strange restaurant tonight.
All I want is to be in yours.
There, my kids laugh and hug me.
Here, they just argue.

My daughter knows.
She holds her fork
mid-bite and says,
"You know, Mom?
Even though you lost him,
there's other fish in the sea."
She pats my arm with
a sad smile.

My steak's too salty,
sour cream too stiff,
bleu cheese too runny,
lettuce too brown,
shrimp too rubbery,
potato dried out,
and my wine
is flavored with tears.

You always bring my shrimp out
with a slice of lemon,
sauce to dip my steak in
which is always a perfect medium,
sour cream on the side,
potato already buttered,
everything arranged
just the way I like it...

and the meal is never complete
without my goodbye hug.
Tonight, I leave a strange restaurant
alone, shuffle my feet
along the rainy pavement
and defiantly wipe away my tears.
I had no choice.
You asked me to stay away
from your restaurant.

They gave me service with a smile,
but I had no smiles left,
even to leave for a tip.
I was broke.



Lori Beal


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Broke

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