by Tim Kavi
writers often
reflect
in sundry places
of culinary graces
and in between
sup
they are always
scrounging
for another cup
so
From dusty streets
of Xian
where there are two
Starbuck's
to the winds of Beijing
and the metal
walkways of Tokyo's
Narita
munching
on God knows what
even a taco
or pita
I have scrawled
my lines
Or on the
back of the bus
while the
children fuss
or even on
napkins at
some place of rest
or God forbid
toilet paper while
modestly dressed
or in the
Writer's Room
at Portland's
Main Library
where except
for the door
it is quiet
for "shore"
or at some
local
greasy spoon
where the dishes
clatter
where nothing is
remiss
a neat
splatter
as the words flow
constructed
deconstructed
or fall even
flatter
or at home
where the prose
mostly flows
and this writer
always goes
I was quite
amazed
while out
and about
when suddenly
in my cup
there arose
quite the
clatter
so that
I looked
from the page
to see what
was the matter
I saw a
splash like
a fish
in the coffee
there
so when
I looked
I beheld
a giant
roachy fish
taking a swim
where too
much used
sugar
was a wish
for him
but I
kept writing
and soon
forgot it
in my writer's
bliss
and took
to a swallow
and
accidently
consumed
the fellow!
Yes taste
dictates
no such
disclosure
but the
writer's
life
is often
filled
with
tougher things
to swallow!
(than perhaps this
fishy tale!)
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