This poem really is about that moment we all know... three friends. Twice the awkwardness. Note: The guy in this poem... yeah, his name isn't actually Rob. Enjoy!
Third Wheel in The Cafeteria
You and Rob are talking again,
laughing the saccharine harmony:
your soprano like many
clinking silver bracelets
looped through his succulent bass.
If we were in the apartment,
I would leave to say hello
to the water filter; but I am rooted
to this stool as you’re talking,
laughter glistening above us
like rising cranes
from a lake of soaked tea leaves.
Perhaps I will giggle with that particularly
sharp-looking fork on my napkin,
acquire the strange
and beautiful phone number of
the circle of lamplight
on the table,
He is now looking at you
with his lips slightly parted,
at the mystery of the pyramid
between your curls
and downcast eyes,
the two of you
Johnny and June.
Maybe I will hide in the storage room
and let myself be kissed
by the pepper shaker—
or the salt shaker—
and have both light and dark
in their raw elements rage over me.
Although I haven't posted anything in a while, I have been writing feverishly for the past month or so... this poem is a part of a larger project I hope to complete... I'm currently working on completing a chapbook (40-ish pages) of poetry, and with any luck, will submit it to some contests and publishers.
And then get wildly rich and famous. Off of poetry. Obviously.
But seriously, I am working on a book. And maybe, in a future post, I'll reveal the theme and cover art I've been toiling over.
Wish me luck!