Break-Fast In The Guest-House Poem by saranyan bee

The care-taker calls me to have my breakfast
just milk, corn-flakes, brown bread toasted
with butter and then jam,
fruits because I dont eat eggs.

At the dining table the other guest
of the guest-house is there too,
his hands are holding the fork and knife,
has finished the cereal and partly other things.

I say, 'Hi'
he squintes his eyes, chuckles
and says, 'hi', two eggs
poached waits on his main plate.

I eat fast.
He eats slow.
His pair of ophthalmic glasses rests on the table
I know why he squints his eyes now.

I eat fast as if I don’t like the food
and I want it finished the sooner.
He eats slow as if he doesn’t like the food
and can’t push it in sooner.

We stay in the same guest house
and share all other things.

Saranyan BV © August 2011