I’m pitching food
at parts of me
listening too intently
to the news in TV bars;
mostly mashed potatoes
chucked into their hair
and onto their faces,
dripping fluffy white
buttered chunks fall
into their tightly held
elegant drinks
and they, looking up
from conversations
more like nightmares,
begin to see me
as I shake uncontrollably
with real unaffected laughter
and finally recognizing me
they deposit
their overly cool,
expensive drinks
and opinions
upon the bar and
we exit joyfully
this dream
together…
words and image by lucy meskill
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