Leftovers for Lunch, poetry written by Dan Leicht at Spillwords.com

Leftovers for Lunch

Leftovers for Lunch

written by: Dan Leicht



I forgot my lunch in the refrigerator.
The little that was left of the pasta you made for dinner,
with oil and tomatoes, cubes of mozzarella – it’s sitting
atop the bag of deli-meat (the turkey you feed your cats).
I didn’t mean to forget my lunch in the refrigerator
as I rushed out the door this morning. I didn’t mean to say “Shit”
as my alarm went off. I was dreaming.
In my dream, people were waiting
for me in the parking lot – perhaps to steal my lunch.
When the alarm sounded all I could think was “Shit”
I have to pass these people on the way to my car.
I was half-awake as I took the elevator.
Half-awake as I pressed L for lobby.
When I walked outside no one was waiting for me.
My lunch was safe, except that I forgot it in the refrigerator.
I swear I didn’t mean to.

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