When the choice of drink is water or chardonnay, I usually take water. I don’t want to end up in some faraway place, sleeping under a bridge, and wonder how I got there. Nobody’s going to rescue me from my own stupidity. If someone asks why I prefer to eat by candlelight, I say, “It’s fine to dine in the dark, but the last time I tried that, I nearly ate my finger, mistaking it for a French fry. Don’t you think it’s important to be safe rather than sorry?”
will you meet me on the path
to the mountaintop?
More The Whirligig #257
More Writers’ Pantry #11 at Poets and Storytellers United
Women in the photograph
Do not smile and do not laugh.
“Bones,” they croak, “are fine when brown.
Can we buy some in your town?”
Skin of language, weight of air,
Ravens weaving patterns there
In the presence of your friends—
See the way the sunlight bends?
Poem © by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #207
More Poetry Pantry #445 at Poets United