The Usual Meal.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

inside the room
the door and windows are
closed.

the lamp shade is
dimming while day
shines alive
outside the house
in this city.

someone is passive
a recipient while another
pushes life and death
too.

most of these are not
spoken, as they live only
in the silence of
the dark room, and when
everything is over, like
a drama, or a play or
merely an advertisement
considering the preciousness
of the hour and the
expense of the moment,

well, door and windows open,
a little word is said,
perhaps a goodbye and thank you,
and then life begins again
as though nothing so
significant has happened.

the brave and the courageous
forget, the weak settles in
guilt and anger, and those
who understand perfectly
what life is, or death,
simply wash their hands
for another usual meal.