Didn’t we have that just last night?
And didn’t we pour it over a dry pair of biscuits
and have it for breakfast? Remember?
We had to wash it down with coffee, and when we were through
there was more of it,
enough to wrap and pack
in brown paper sacks
and we had it for lunch and we ate it on break
and we nibbled on the stuff all through our day.
And still we’re hungry.
Put that stuff away.
Seal the lid and set it back.
Let’s go out tonight and dine on better things.
We’ll start with an appetizer, a basket of conversation,
and when we’re finished
we’ll have an order of silence,
the comfortable kind,
the kind we used to wrap in wax paper and take along for later
on our trips to nowhere in particular. Remember?
We’d drive till we found a spot somewhere, some place beneath a field of clouds,
or we’d pull to the side of the road
and jump out of the car
to stand in the rain of star light.
Then one of us would fetch the silence,
unwrap it and break it in two,
and hand one half to the other
so we could share it and savor it.
That’s what I’m hungry for.
They’ll be information tomorrow. Let’s go out tonight.