Scene From Beach Kiosk

Old News: Hungry animals devour,

unaffected by consuming aesthetic.

Consider compound verb, ‘wolf down’. 

Get it into you asap or possibly lose it. 

Lone male, who may think I lust 

for his lunch, takes three bites then 

masticates mammoth toasted egg, 

tomato, cheese and onion sandwich. 

(Overheard ordering) Always three, 

then machine chewing, swallowing and 

slurping tea. He sluices to augment juices. 

Beach brunch has his undivided, despite 

restless sea, rowdy clouds, passers-by 

who have no intention of grabbing

any part of heaped feast squeezed

between grilled pieces of bread.

Middle-aged, well-dressed, fop-

pish hair, roguish moustache yet, 

when he arrives at final corner 

of each half, he shoves it into the 

crowded cave. Packs it in as if 

there’s a chance his offensive 

might be lost by lingering.

Evening news will be dominated 

by reports of ill economy, rapacious 

viruses, violent politics and football 

which is war writ bite-size.

Food for thought but maybe not 

for this observer who will still 

be digesting the profound scene 

that just keeps repeating. Onions.

Rare Sighting of Wolfdownman:

a very real revelation was at hand 

and will now be working its way

through my mind and his bacteria-

filled guts and then beyond. 

Allan Lake, a stray from Allover, Canada, now writes poetry in Allover, Australia. Latest chapbook of poems, ‘My Photos of Sicily’, published by Ginninderra Press, 2020.