Dinner for Two
by pete lutz
I sit alone
Enjoying a candlelit dinner
When a housefly
Lands next to my knife
And begins dining on crumbs
He begs my pardon
And goes back to his meal
We discus the finer points
Of Australian wines and French cheeses
I am grateful
And he is a gentleman
Because he never asks why
The table is set for two
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1 comment:
Pete, your poem brings to mind one of my favorite books, The Lives and Times of Archy & Mehitabel by don marquis. Archy is a frustrated poet imprisoned in the body of a cockroach. His dearest friend, Mehitabel the cat, is a dancer. In the book's introduction, E.B. White describes their dilemma much as I might describe my own " ... both seeking expression, both vainly trying to reconcile art and life, both finding always that one gets in the way of the other. their employer, in one of his more sober moods, once put the whole matter in a couple of lines.
'My heart has followed all my days
Something I cannot name . . .'
Such is the lot of poets."
Such is the lot of painters,too.
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