roberta's philosophical digest

not sure how long ive been here
that happens once time has fermented in red wine
the waitress asked me if im finished
of course not
ill be here awhile
the music drifts from the bar
sounds like the tune of an old friend of mine
but im not sure i have such a friend
just a feeling i get
from certain strangers on the subway
or particular scents
i brought this book with me
thought id eat along with my meal
but this pretentious philosophical bullshit
aint breakin down in my belly
in fact it wont even fit in my mouth
but the pizza is good
i always thought my mouth could morph
around almost anything
obviously not
the combination of letters on these pages
feed only through the mouths of
those people
those people who manifest perfect sense of absolute nonsense
in conversations with them
you question your own sobriety
capacity
catch a word or two
and you continue holding on
though really there is a gaping hole
between reality and speaking of the matter
so as im reading and writing and eating
reality is
the only things on my mind are
my fingers
and where they have been this afternoon
my guitar
between my legs
and now, the waitress's pen