butcher shop haiku
Feb 24, 2024
Lunch is now over
Spent bowl. A white plastic fork.
I sit on green grass
Blue Converse All-Stars. Low-tops
Laces untied. Unkempt. Askance.
I now bathe in the sun.
It’s been 2 or three years.
This restaurant never opens.
Branchless trees out front.
McCall’s parking lot.
Bart looks for something to do.
Sun is in descendant.
Jose and Gaspar
Buffing. Making the beast shine.
Water trickles away.
End of shift is near.
I wait, looking at a black milk crate
Wanting a slice of pizza
