suburbs of chicken salad and a side note

something about eating alone
sipping coffee alone
reading alone
makes me feel a sense of much needed absense
from the pompus crows
and the tide and the waves
and the picture that I have been painted into
without my permission of course.
I have been plagerized.
my being
my heart
my charector
on a 12x14 white canvas
plagerism's arms
reach far beyond
a college paper
or your self help book
that is now green lighted.

a painting . mine.

which hangs apoun the mantel
of your first impressions fire place
in this painting I am surrounded by friends
and I am happy that way
brush strokes represent a sense of belonging
a sense of acceptance
I sense of home
my eyes are painted upward
with that very setteling glow
I supposed you mixed an indian yellow
and a deep orange
to achieve this.

this painting represents
a side
a sidenote
a moment in time
just like a picture
can capture
your worst side

I feel happy sitting here
yellow tabel orange coat
chicken salad that taste
so much like glue its shocking
and a piece of white toast
which I debate over
and over.

this town is so cold
this jacket is so warm
these mothers are so sad
bundeld up in wool and lace
Im sitting here by the windows
prison stripes pass by
these men,these sons
such disgrace

I am absent from the actual moment
its 1239

12 12 12 12 12 12

my fingertips contain
so many secrets
so many hidden talents
so much distain
why do I even write.

and what is the price of your sunlight
opposed to the night?
how can we appreciate gladness
unless sorrow comes our way?
and what is sin
without any grace?

and who asked you
in the first place