It was somewhat non-descrip, this diatribe
of misnomer, trying to breach the parking
situation as it were, a travail of sort, landing
where it will, burned rubber or coffee - free
to all who dare to transgress topics,
personalities designed not to be seen.
We don't know about this, but for written form
that travels across our anger, spouting off
a bit when it hits the fan, though cliche,
trying all of our patience, when we have
to wait, and wait and then seem to express
frustration with human rights of coffee.
We'll tackle this by a trial and error basis,
as we discover the inner pangs of customers,
and others servicing them, to their joy,
or else, a pitt of reprobation, wafting about
in elegant denial, another bagel, baguette,
French, though American all in all.
Try anther one, then, as you can
exert your right to self proclamation -
proclaiming something resembling a height
of hypocrisy of servicing - we sincerely
apologize that you were alive while this happened -
and that this bar is lowered to such as degree
that no one - at least no adult can pass through -
or under at least.
All in all, an honest explanation, an exact
letter of dismay, as the membership stills,
still accumulating points for favor, despite
a settled disgust, civil exile, even excommunication
from rational thought. We tire of anything
beyond exclusive customer service that
readies us with attempts to prove our point.
© 2016 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.