modern man, no. 3

soft rain comes in annoying noises
indecisive splashes mixed and irregular
why have you brought me to this
anonymous place
?

hard wooden benches, when i need
arabian pillows, when i need the small
but devious comforts that are bought
with careful attentions

and you think to ply me with kenyan
coffees, artisan chocolates, trivial
arts or crafts, in a room that reckons
coldly with its favors

autumn soups reek of wholesome
herbs and plucked leaves, roots
haphazardly discovered, wrought
and dug from earth

where in this vapid supper can i get
the sustenance for an artist, a writer
chasing down the steps of warriors,
painting funeral moments

look up at your grey clouds, blabbing
in a pseudo-heaven choir, dripping morosely
on this poor disheveled street, crossed by
stragglers and dogs

was i so easily seduced, that you thought
to purchase me, no more than a tuesday treat,
a toss away frivol for a day gone dreary
and tiresome

so we sit here, noshing on bumpkin foods,
breaking muffins for their poor fruits,
seeking some solution for an ill-matched
suitor after fame

but hold my hand, no one will hear our
fingers touch, recognize our little passion
take home a few gossips for a garden club
devoted to peonies

we are, are we not, quite modern
?