At lunch I have a sandwich I sit and read a book I get my soda refilled I slowly take a look To see how long I’ve sat here And find, to my dismay I might as well stay longer And craft a resume
With hours spent in thought, a pause, A break, to launch a brand new start – With lunch a sort of work of art We make because — well, just because
I find a stall This day’s not bad at all It pays to eat and run
Part 2,437 of my effort to write about every thought that comes into my head.
I have no explanation for this poem.