Your Burrito Order
I’m sitting at the bar in Moja Rosa’s, waiting for my burrito order.
Egg Harbor is quiet; it’s still early on a Friday night.
Geese flew overhead in their uneven V when I stepped out of the car.
The November cold rose off the blacktop while I searched for the right door.
Poems showing places can be appealing if they happen to be about where you live,
but it does help when a human being appears and waves at you.
That’s me. Perhaps we shall meet.
I’m still here sitting at the bar in Moja Rosa’s
waiting on my burrito order.
I’m sipping scotch and ignoring football reruns on big screen TVs
while I scribble these words on the back of my grocery list.
And you may be idly flipping through the pages of your mail.
A newspaper, magazines, and catalogues lie in a pile on your counter.
Hey! There’s a chance something will grab your eye.
Maybe there will be a short poem about a burrito order.
You read,
constructing images and ideas from the words.
And, with a slight inhale, you experience what we all seek–
a spontaneous lifting of the heart
as you sit at the bar in Moja Rosa’s waiting for your burrito order.
Your Turn….
7 Responses
I speed down the dusty dirt road
My mind in daydreaming mode.
About a man, his horse, and the trail he rode,
A hard life that in his face showed.
He left home at an early age,
Needing to make a decent wage.
Cowboying turn to a full time job,
Sometimes so homesick he’d sit and sob.
Now I live by that trail,
Passing on grandpa’s cowboy tales.
That trail is just a dusty rut in the road,
Where the cattle and horse strode.
Folks going about their lives unaware,
About the history we share.
Open you eyes and behold,
The rich history from generations old.
Nice ode to your grandfather. How great that you’re aware of his history and where he worked. “Now I live by that trail”–amazing!
This reminds me of my Grampa, Walk. I enjoyed reading it.
I have no knack for poetry.
Words in rhymes seem silly to me.
They make no sense!
Perhaps I’m dense?
My cadence lacks allure, you see.
Since clearly I’m
Not able to rhyme
With words that make some sense to me,
I must give up!
For you can see,
I have no knack for poetry!
Great job saying “I can’t” when your poem clearly illustrates that you can. What fun! I hope you’ll write more and continue to trust yourself. I enjoyed it!
In a restaurant….
Mystified by the profound thoughts he’d heard from other patrons while waiting for the waiter to bring the check, Dervan stood at the restaurant window and watched a mischievous black squirrel darting about beneath a car in the parking lot. First it checked each of the tires for a possible snack, and then it skittered from one suspended automobile part to the next hoping that one of them would be edible but to no avail. It was all inedible material. The squirrel seemed to become more frantic with each disappointment.
Dervan looked at the white ceramic plate on the restaurant table with a small scrap of leftover food resting upon it, and then he carefully wrapped the food in the paper napkin which had been discarded beside it.
The waiter smiled as he approached carrying the check and as he too looked out the window he said, “Nice. Better than having squirrel bite marks in someone’s fuel line!”
Profound thoughts versus squirrel feeding. Dervan’s (great name!) thoughts are all over the place. I like how attentive he is. Most times we’re walking around in a daze. The waiter, however, is quite practical. You have quite a range here!