Tuesday Night Poem: Fortunate Fool

The lagging silence was broken
By her percise eyes, and the peering
Glances that she shot my
Way across the cluttered table.

I tried to break the rountine, of me
Laughing at bad jokes, and eventually
Choking and spitting up
Vanilla milkshakes out of my nose.
That usually gets a lingering chuckle
From the other customers,
Who saunter by with encouraging
Words and pats on the back.

I snarl at their pandering attempts
To console me.
I silently curse their Mothers
And secretly memorize their home
Telephone numbers, so I can crank
Call them when I am lying awake at 4 AM.

The whining bag lady who stood
On the empty corner in the middle of the
Early afternoon sun shower kept
Pointing up at the sky, to no point
In particular,
Yet a group of Danish tourists
Stood, marveled, took pictures,
Then got their pockets picked by a
Slick midget named Sully.

I shrugged my one good shoulder,
Tipped the waitress a meager 3%,
Then glided out of the unknown diner,
With a whispering soul a few steps
Behind me, planting small, yet
Delicious melodies within my earshot.

I walked down the sidestreet
And smiled when
I saw a young father angelically
Kiss his oldest
Daughter on her forehead
Before she got hit
By a speeding city bus.