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Another Meal
I don’t mind fixin’ it, it’s just food,
somethin’ the micro
can heat.
but sitting in separate rooms, your
fork clinking on your plate,
the TV muted while you watch
the news…that gives me
pause, a sigh rises and the
strung out days march forever
it seems.
I don’t mind washing my plate, setting
it down on the counter, grabbing
another beer, sittin’
on the porch by myself.
but our separate thoughts, your
face lookin’ out the kitchen window,
a song bird fluttering near… that gives
me deep regret, the lone thrush
scurryin’ through
the flower bed and hidin’
its red-brown wings
glowing in green darkness.
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