RT Villa | poetry | Brunch Poem

    
   
Brunch Poem



                                                       after Frank O’Hara

Kade blades down Multnomah Street
his wheels an inline flurry
past the new police building
and the lot that used to be a soup kitchen
until they tore it down
to make space
for more dirt

I walk a little bit behind him
squinting in the brightness
of the cloud-blanketed sky

he spins to slow down
tells me about the news again
and I pretend to listen
but mostly I watch the ants
single-file their way
between a Black & Mild wrapper
and a storm drain

I’m digesting a $20 French toast
split between the two of us
and thinking about the cost of eggs

we’re always eating, it seems
             always hungry

I’m out of food stamps for a good week
but we’ll find a stray can in the cupboard
and simmer it into salvation
and eat right out of the pot

if there’s one truth in this world
it’s that there’s always more dishes to do
but goddamn is it lovely
to hand him wet plates
& watch him wipe them half dry
& eat
              off our water stains
                                                       all day
.