deepundergroundpoetry.com
PHANTOM LUNCH COMPANION
(This is a repost)
Stories are told of amputees
Who when an arm or a leg is taken
They still sense the presence of
The now absent limb as if it were a phantom
My lunch companion
Was excised from my life
Amputated from me
Due to my moronic and insensitive behavior
My inability to control the “Y” chromosome
Now when I visit the places of our former repasts
I can feel her presence there
My phantom lunch companion
Our first lunch, Mexican I think, was fascinating
Filled, at least for me, with the nervous excitement
Of meeting someone new
Our conversation quickly turned to deeper things
I met a soul open to frank discussion of real life,
My absolutely favorite kind of friend
At the little Italian place on the corner,
Where she spoke orgasmically of their Chicken crepes
We first sat by the window and spoke of
Her passion for spreadsheets
The prettiest geek in the room,
At that table there in the corner, against the wall
We spoke of our love and concern for our children
And our painful childhood memories
And, of course, the seemingly unavoidable
Spilling of something on my shirt
At the table nearest the front
Freedom was the topic
True self-expression
The living of life on our own terms
A skill my phantom lunch companion masters so much better than I
On my weekday bus rides out of town
I can’t help but glance at "our"table in Market Square
Where on a beautiful Winter’s day
We sat and ate Greek food
While she, wearing a bright smile,
Recounted her recent adventures in New York City
Family relationships, kids, work, cupcakes, tattoos, religion
Politics, movies, clothing, sex (not certain though), piercings, French, philosophy,
And so many more were the topics we discussed
While eating at the Chinese restaurant across the street
I think we would have solved all of what’s
Wrong with this world if given a few more meals
My lunch hours, although still enjoyable,
Are spent, now, with prosthetic companions
And one note conversations
These can never feel like the real thing
Though the table and meal are the same
And yet in some mysterious way
I can still feel the presence of my Phantom Lunch Companion
La Fin
Stories are told of amputees
Who when an arm or a leg is taken
They still sense the presence of
The now absent limb as if it were a phantom
My lunch companion
Was excised from my life
Amputated from me
Due to my moronic and insensitive behavior
My inability to control the “Y” chromosome
Now when I visit the places of our former repasts
I can feel her presence there
My phantom lunch companion
Our first lunch, Mexican I think, was fascinating
Filled, at least for me, with the nervous excitement
Of meeting someone new
Our conversation quickly turned to deeper things
I met a soul open to frank discussion of real life,
My absolutely favorite kind of friend
At the little Italian place on the corner,
Where she spoke orgasmically of their Chicken crepes
We first sat by the window and spoke of
Her passion for spreadsheets
The prettiest geek in the room,
At that table there in the corner, against the wall
We spoke of our love and concern for our children
And our painful childhood memories
And, of course, the seemingly unavoidable
Spilling of something on my shirt
At the table nearest the front
Freedom was the topic
True self-expression
The living of life on our own terms
A skill my phantom lunch companion masters so much better than I
On my weekday bus rides out of town
I can’t help but glance at "our"table in Market Square
Where on a beautiful Winter’s day
We sat and ate Greek food
While she, wearing a bright smile,
Recounted her recent adventures in New York City
Family relationships, kids, work, cupcakes, tattoos, religion
Politics, movies, clothing, sex (not certain though), piercings, French, philosophy,
And so many more were the topics we discussed
While eating at the Chinese restaurant across the street
I think we would have solved all of what’s
Wrong with this world if given a few more meals
My lunch hours, although still enjoyable,
Are spent, now, with prosthetic companions
And one note conversations
These can never feel like the real thing
Though the table and meal are the same
And yet in some mysterious way
I can still feel the presence of my Phantom Lunch Companion
La Fin
Published 6th May 2015
| Edited 7th Apr 2017
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
6th May 2015 11:13am
I too know how it feels to have someone suddenly excised from your life. You wrote with pain and I can connect to that. Very interesting insight.
6th May 2015 8:34pm
6th May 2015 2:22pm
6th May 2015 8:36pm
That's beautiful Ahavati! Thank you soi much for reading and inspiring me.
6th May 2015 7:39pm
It is so rare to have someone in your life that really vibes with your vibe on many levels.
having that one person you can talk with about anything is so special. i am so sorry for your loss and pain my Darling!!!
hopeing you feel better soon love!!
Zazzles xoxoxox
having that one person you can talk with about anything is so special. i am so sorry for your loss and pain my Darling!!!
hopeing you feel better soon love!!
Zazzles xoxoxox
6th May 2015 8:37pm
Thank you Zazzles...I'm fine now :) Although now I pay someone to listen to my every thought.
6th May 2015 9:23pm
Ah huh... good for you ! u can talk with me?
can't eat lunch with you but i have a great ear and eyes...
Zazzles xoxoxo
can't eat lunch with you but i have a great ear and eyes...
Zazzles xoxoxo
6th May 2015 10:03pm
Anonymous
6th May 2015 9:17pm
tesoro, questo fa male... i feel this agony down to my bones these days, in all those hollow spaces left in his absence
you've written this wistful piece with your signature finesse xo a definite keeper to read again and again
you've written this wistful piece with your signature finesse xo a definite keeper to read again and again
6th May 2015 10:02pm
Thank you Katja! It was a bizarre and painful chapter. But I still feel that love's worth our effort...my heart is healed...an incredibly resilient organ actually. That you like this piece is significant to me.
