The Brunch Crowd

In the unrelenting desert

Of a brunch crowd

Unbridled, bare, unshod

He will neigh ’til the day

That the waitress comes round

Or a busboy comes buzzing by

Whom he could flag down

“He’ll die of thirst,” some child suggests

“Please fill his trough, he can’t himself.”

Clatter drowns them out

Patrons step around

One heave, one moan

And the creak of bone

Don’t let go, lonely colt

In the incalescent chatter

Of the lunch crowd

Forgotten, parched, run-down

He will neigh through the day

’Til the waitress comes round

Without cause to be concerned

And without kindness

The staff surrounds them now

All say closed for the day

And the neon goes out

Almost dusk

Don’t need much

Water please

Bastards have no opinion about me

It’s a never-ending neigh

Met by never-ending no