| Poetry |
Carrot Soup
The carrot soup is delicious.
I stare into the orange ocean.
I stare into the abyss.
There is a saxophone in my ear.
I am not beat, but I am almost there.
The rain pours, but it will not clean these streets.
The ocean of orange
The ghost is yours
Did I forget to mention the abyss stares back?
A man in my ear
Nothing new
He complains about the chicken
He complains about you
Going down the list
Giving helpful hints
An arrogant ass is the first to part his lips.
Searching my mind for something profound to say
I have kept my mouth shut
Maybe you should do the same
As I leave the stranger says,
“But the carrot soup was delicious.”
by Heather Cunningham
Email: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it