Out to Lunch

Your first meal here in many months,
You find an open seat at once.

The server recognizes you,
Recalls your name, your number, too.

Assorted people stop to chat,
Updating you on this or that.

Another lawyer had a stroke.
A client’s company went broke.

A politician left his wife.
A mom with cancer lost her life.

A minister at last retired.
An office manager got fired.

A neighbor wrote a naughty book
Unlikely to deserve a look.

You eat and drink despite such news
While wishing you could pay less dues.

Why stay a member of this Club?
To know or not? Ay, there’s the rub.

 
Jane Blanchard


If you have any thoughts about this poem,   Jane Blanchard would be pleased to hear them