Fought on the phone

Somber

well bury me in the sand
there's no place i'd rather be
than with you

part me out like
a cadaver

send me away
on jewels
junk
a jesters bow from a brothel in Pompeii
capturing the sun
in in a bottle
like a smile

baking fresh bread
in lava stone ovens
14 centuries in the making

upcoming colonel
with a chip on her shoulder
won over by
Georgia red runner peanuts
and a talkative old man
just happy to have a nice parking spot
and work to keep his mind busy

yellow Grainger county tomatos
that'll make you feel right as rain
salt
toast

linguistics
tastes like agent orange
desert fox
burning books
breaking sound barriers
with your complaints

restrain me because
here comes the sun

as i'm surfing out the door
i'll send you the winning lottery ticket
fix your worldly problems winking
and wipe the drool off your chin while i'm at it




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before you say this is too random,this is a free verse poem about people calling into my call center just to talk....so this is almost a normal conversation on some days.