on the road to lunch
and the road back combined,
i read 102 pages from the book of longing.
it was a footnote
compared to the volumes
writ on your face
you left while i was paying the bill.
i watched you leave, headed for normal.
the book of longing was published last year, written by leonard cohen, and i actually did read 102 pages of it on the walk there and back; his poems run fast, striking everything in their path. normal is a town in illinois, and she is actually going there. her face was full of endless words during lunch.
it's interesting how reality, when recited, reveals the other meanings contained within everything we live. the moment rhymes with its homonyms.)