What I Might Hunger For (If I could Just Concentrate)
What I Might Hunger For (If I Could Just Concentrate)
Sitting in a diner just outside of
Seattle,
trying to write about what I hunger for,
which is not (like my husband) hash browns–
when a large flushed (for morning) foursome
squeezed round the next table, says loudly
”there was this movie–”
but words
“The Big Lebowski”
words
“what’s in a white russian–”
(believe me, there was much more)
“anyway?”
(about the movie and kahlua, bowling) —
“Your sour cream pancakes–”
as I try to think about, you know–
“I LOVE Victoria”
words.
Words with an edge
(that, the locale of)
“like the sign at that hotel in Canada,”
(someone’s retirement party)
“that said: newly weds–the nearly dead–”
words that wedge meaning
“that rockstar with the name”
into meaning
“like the exit off–”
You know, meaning?
“Route 5.”
All punctuated by–
I feel my own face flushing–
the clink–
as I really do try–
cutlery,
to write
and the cluck
something
the cluck, the cluck
anything
chuck-chuckle
but not those words I–
“you know there are people in Arizona–”
hear–
“your scrambled”–
“who actually HATE”
lettered lenses
that carry me farther than–
I imagine a word chariot, I imagine it drawn by
“the Sea Hawks–”
Words, I want to scream
BE QUIET!
not even hungry
PLLEEASE!
for the eggs
please!
on rye
please!
poached.
************************
A little frustrated sort of poem. Posted for the Tuesday Platform on With Real Toads, hosted by the inimitable Kerry O’Connor. This poem was originally inspired by Mama Zen’s words count prompt to write on what you hungered for–I could not get it down to sixty words, which was her limit. (The Sea Hawks for those outside of the US are the Seattle football team.)
I am using an old picture for this post–I do not have my iPad with its terrific drawing programs me, so this doesn’t really work–supposed to be a blank notebook–(and eggs)–
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: Diner Poetry, manicddaily, Overheard and Inner Conversations, Seahawks poem, Unsilenced in Seattle, What I might hunger for if I could only concentrate, writing poem
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ManicDDaily 
January 27, 2015 at 7:42 pm
The frustration is eminent in your words. The transformation of noise from pleasant to disturbing often makes us angry.
I like your use of punctuation in this poem.
January 27, 2015 at 8:04 pm
well…that got just a little crazy…and here i was enjoying my hashbrowns when all those voices came crashing in on me…smiles…
January 27, 2015 at 8:44 pm
A wonderful mix of the external and internal worlds, done with grace. Enjoy the game!
January 27, 2015 at 10:44 pm
This totally cracked me up.
January 28, 2015 at 3:48 am
I don’t think i would write in that environment.. but somehow the eaves-dropping ended up in something quite hilarious.. I can understand to loosing your appetite when there is simply too much (but I would like some hash-browns)
January 28, 2015 at 10:32 am
This, while of course funny as hell, also was almost painful to read and paints your frustration and weariness large as a billboard, not to mention illustrating why Sartre said ‘ Hell is just other people.’ The press of others’ thoughts and personalities make creating from inside very difficult–I believe that’s why most art comes from a (relatively) solitary place. Great punctuation and enjambment to create that fractured, annoying sense of intrusion and trivia.
January 28, 2015 at 1:44 pm
Silence is hard come by these days. We are surrounded by an overabundance of words.
January 28, 2015 at 8:01 pm
Well, I gotta say, you thoroughly conveyed the frustration. And totally entertained me! http://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/2015/01/27/spectrum/
January 29, 2015 at 12:23 am
…but it is fun to eavesdrop at times.. made for a fun poem 🙂