Flying Star 15 Aug 22

September 16, 2022 ~ Kenneth P. Gurney ~ 1 Comment

Old men type texts on their smart phones
with one finger and no emojis.

A middle aged woman slices her eggs
with knife and fork.

All but one of the laptops are Macs.
Most of the coffee is diluted with cream and sugar.

From the Quick Fix station
Dean gets a scoop of ice cream in a coffee cup.

Twelve indoor tables are empty—three full.
Twelve outdoor tables are full—three empty.

For the fifth time in ten minutes a person
pushes on a glass door that does not open.

Two young women use the cafe as their office—
write code on screens that look similar to 1980s DOS.

Not Papal

September 10, 2021 ~ Kenneth P. Gurney ~ Leave a comment

In a bowl
sits peach cobbler
under a scoop
of vanilla ice cream
as the main dish
for my evening meal
in contradiction
to all
my mother
taught me
about nutrition
and today
when there is
nothing special
about the date
in regard
to patron saints
or astrology
or astronomy
I find I really
only wish
to enjoy
this indulgence
in the comfort
of my favorite
chair.

Family

May 17, 2020 ~ Kenneth P. Gurney ~ Leave a comment

I caught Serendipity by the tail.
Now I am a flea thrown mid-wag

by seeing the car pull up
to disgorge seven children

at the rubber band snapping age
infused with floating dandelion puff wonder.

Thrown mid-wag I double somersault
into the sequel of the Sunday sacrifice

of a half gallon of ice cream
and two jars of chocolate sauce

which has become ritualized
into a weekly event

after rediscovering the great outdoors
in a park totally lacking suspicion

while lined by sinister houses
on the opposite side of the street.