PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Over lunch, we spoke of death

Dipped our chips slowly into salsa

Chose our words very carefully

It still burnt like a hot pepper stuck in my throat

"the odds are against him"

I know that.

Dont casually remind me.

So I tear up in this local establishment

Can't find a napkin

the waitor boys don't speak much english

so, can't ask for a napkin

my face is naked. Look at it.

I enter the bathroom

it's empty

I recover

I clean up real nice

We leave and

don't say another word for the whole ride home