Poetry

Lost Testament

I stopped at a
greasy spoon
for a morning meal
Back booth
Petrified
cracked vinyl
cushion
Told the waiter
I was the
risen lord
and he rolled
his eyes
Shrugged
“You want lemon
in your water?”
Walking on water
becomes problematic
with lemon wedges
bobbing about.
“No thanks”
just then an
ambulance came
squealing down
Main Street
and I didn’t
follow to
heal them

I should have

Felt bad
but I was
famished
My 3-egg
omelette
was delayed

so I stayed

and waited

There will be
other days
for making
miracles

We’re all waiting
for something

Categories: Poetry

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