Procrastination or The Art of Never Finishing
by Paganini Jones
It runs deep, this need to keep going.
Endings, like closed doors are best
not walked into blindly.
Better to dawdle
than trip into uncertainty.
Better to stir the coffee (widdershins thrice?
With the end of a pen?
Carefully with a wooden stirrer
to doodle in the froth?)
I once saw a man
push to the front,
demand his latte NOW,
drumming fingers on his phone,
eyes flitting back and forth
until the barrista complied.
The take-out cup, improperly sealed
in the snatch-and-grab service
was not up to the pressure.
His slight stumble over his own bag
enough to propell the liquid...
Why tell you more?
You know it cannot end well.
Perhaps you were there?
You can already see the brown arc,
locate it's destination,
a hot, sticky puddle
on this decrepit manuscript,
the one that had to be completed
but now abandoned
in a measured soothing
Posted on 07/28/2018
Copyright © 2020 Paganini Jones
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 07/30/18 at 12:58 AM|
Ha! We were discussing ironic poems at my meet-up today. I think this one fits the bill. Thanks, Paganini.
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/31/18 at 03:50 PM|
Entertaining and thought provoking as always, Pag.
|Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 08/06/18 at 12:32 PM|
Masterfully written and enchanting to read.