John Grey is an Australian born poet, US resident since late seventies. Works as financial systems analyst. Recently published in Xavier Review, White Wall Review and Writer’s Bloc with work upcoming in Poem, Prism International and the Cider Press Review.
When You’re Desperate
The sign said EATS
and our hunger was such
that no elaboration was required.
It was a shabby diner in the desert
but the arid, empty stomach
is a reformed choosy beggar.
So the soda was flat,
the donuts hard,
the hamburgers burned and greasy.
Taste was not an issue.
We sat up on rickety stools
before a dusty counter
piloting inedible food into our mouths
with grimy knives and forks.
“I needed that,” you said, when you were done.
Despite my gut’s low growl, I seconded.
Had we but thought of the starving heart,
the love devoured to sate it.
What if it was the heart of the desert drive?
What if the best love was the worst we ever tasted?