Sunday, August 6, 2017

This poem was recently revised, and sue to formatting problems has been re-posted out of chronological order.

You Are a Person of Strong Sense of Duty”
Feb 17 2009

The fortune cookie
teases open like a wish-bone -
the gentle resistance
of clasped wings
pried apart,
giving way
to hard edges, and shattered shards.
Nice generic predictions
you can leave
or take.

We complete this communal meal
with cookies that taste
like drywall.
And with a small flutter of hope
for love, treasure, friends,
the good ones, taken to heart
glossing over the rest.
Or scratching our heads
when Confucius inscrutably says . . .

Somewhere, in a cookie factory
that smells of ink, and sweetened dough
a man is frantically stuffing them in,
as a conveyor
pumps them out like hot cakes.

Apparently, good fortune does not rub off
as he sits, hour after hour
in his dead-end job,
lost and luckless
breathing-in crumbs.

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