April 27, 2010

Lunch is served

The line moved slowly
as we all shuffled to get
our own little plate of fear.
Each of us got our own special
The kid screeched as a handful of
of spiders fell onto his tray.
By the time everyone paid for their food
they were shuddering
and shaking in their boots.
The girl ahead of me got 'food'.
Just regular food.
So that's the anorexic...
I don't think I could ever be afraid of food..
Inhaling unsteadily I stepped up to the lunch lady
whose eyes were vacant and the hair net
on her head looked painted on.
She lifted her wrinkly hand and twisted her wrist
letting a scoop of anxiety and loneliness
plop onto my plate.
My plate was always the empty one,
I always had the rhetoric scoop.
Others got metaphorical scoops
her name was Felicity.
She had been going out with this guy for two months
and every day for lunch they would give her
a pod with two peas in it, and the pod would look
more and more rotten by the day.
Then some got the 'real life' scoops
like the kid with spiders.
I would hate to get that..
The hardest part of the whole thing
is checking out with your meal!
I mean, getting it is one thing
but having to /deal/ with it for twenty minutes
that's the real torture.
Someone once told me
that middle school was the time
to face your fears and get over them
and high school was the time to test your courage
I didn't know they meant this so literally.
What does your plate of fear look like?

.: I apologize for not posting, life seems to be getting a bit tougher these days. I wrote this today and thought you all might enjoy reading it. After this I was start posting my favorite poems again, maybe introduce my favorite haiku poets. <: