Sitting alone in a Whataburger, eating a justaburger and hot
apple pie.
Caring not an iota about those around me, having nothing
better to talk of or laugh at.
It is none of my concern and I take myself away to write of
the music I hear.
Watching the inner flight of my mind soar and land on a
blimp, slowly gracing the skies just outside this window.
Sun shining on this page as I write and become a particle
in the space of my own time.
Giving to self, an extra moment of peace before going back
home to the unrest and kids fighting.
Spacing each bite so I may write as much as possible between
each of them, enjoying the gift of my inner mind very much.
(11: 19 p.m. - 1/1/96)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem