The Last Supper

I read that book

I made myself

I didn't want to

But I did it

I saw the things you

You told me these things

I didn't want to

To see these things then

I don't want to see them

Now I want to keep going

If we can't return, turn

Back the way it was back

Back away from what's coming

I hurt

I hurt that you hurt

I don't want you to hurt

I don't want you to go

Why are you going to

To, why are you going

I can't say it

One year to go

I wanted twenty-three years

I wanted forty, or fifty

Was that too much to ask?

That book that I read

You breath well

You breath well

We got in the van

And we went for a drive

Down the highway to the store

The store in the lobby of

Well, you know where the store is

We bought you a hat

Fuschia, pink, wide brimmed

The cost was for three of what I could buy

The cost was nothing

It was nothing

Will you ask for a last supper?

Fried chicken with mashed potatoes and corn

Or spaghetti with meat sauce?

Will I be so happy to see you eat

That I miss what's going on

Or will I realize what is happening

And serve you a meal with tears

That I keep back behind my eyes

So there's not too much salt in your food?

Food binds us together

Food is an expression of love

Twenty-two years

Was twenty-three really too much?

copyright (C) 2012 christopher w neal all rights reserved