Raise a Glass

This Sidewalk Poem started off with the glimpse of a large bowl of (artificial) apples adorning a table in a designer furniture store. They looked very comfortable and self-satisfied. I imagined this dialogue between a down-in-the-dumps housewife (stereotype alert!) and a bowl of apples in her kitchen.

Raise a Glass

The bowl of fat red apples
sitting happy on the sink
says, “Why not call your girlfriends?
Go out for a drink?”

The truth is, I can’t do that.
They’re all too far away.
Jane moved across the country.
Sue went another way
and though I sometimes visit her,
her house is cold and grey.
I lost Christine to an argument,
and still regret that day.

And so, my happy apples,
I guess I’ll drink this way!

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