the lost boy (and his lunchtime muse)

I lunched by myself again today.

Not out of necessity, not out of coy reclusion,
or some scowling sort of secret misanthropy
I might harbor within the sawdust pages
I usually bring with me.

No, I simply like being alone,
and prefer not to feign interest unnecessarily,
chat politely about the inane or be subject to the drone
of pundits who blather on upon things
they really know little about.

Flip, flip, flip;
flipping I smile in recognition that
books have always been much better company.
On occasion, a well-chosen read will usually offer a little inspiration
and get me to scribble a note to later abuse

and extend
and stretch
into (something) a musing.

in the beginning .00 daily archives

l.m