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Re: Naut
Naut my Dad always wore a trilby. I don't know why it took of in windy weather and I think a woolly hat might have been better. Arthur likes cooking so I suppose he was interested in what was served. He was in America once and was amazed at the large meals served.
posted by
C_C_T
on October 19, 2013 at 12:20 AM
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Re: Jay
Surely not Jay. You could always wear white gloves and have soup.
posted by
C_C_T
on October 19, 2013 at 12:15 AM
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Re: FS
I think I might try and cook a few beetroots FS it seems too easy. Not like somethings.
posted by
C_C_T
on October 19, 2013 at 12:13 AM
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Re: Bill
Bill you should have been a blacksmith I am sure you could have forged a golden sword.
posted by
C_C_T
on October 19, 2013 at 12:11 AM
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Re: Pat
Very good Pat, It would be great if we spoke as we felt. 'Well I don't know if I can stand looking at you at breakfast.I shall have to wait and see what kind of chemicals stir my reproductive organs. 
posted by
C_C_T
on October 19, 2013 at 12:08 AM
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Re:
Thank you Judy I must confess I did not like the encounter. The good news is we are friends in a relieved sort of way.
posted by
C_C_T
on October 19, 2013 at 12:02 AM
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Re:Ciel
Ciel how poetical, I wish it were true,'help .help!' It is old Bill Shakespeare trying to sell me his old bed again the dirty old man
posted by
C_C_T
on October 19, 2013 at 12:00 AM
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first a snow queen... now the Thunder Woman dressed in leaves...
The world you live in is filled with folk only you have the eyes to see. But you show them poetically to those living on the fringes of your world.
posted by
Ciel
on October 18, 2013 at 4:11 PM
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I enjoyed your peom very much!
posted by
MsJudy
on October 18, 2013 at 4:05 PM
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So often we place too much importance on the slightest inclination
of the other's chin.
I, for one, have to think over
a confusing encounter
in which questions are hinted but
not spoken, and the future
is left to the imagination.
posted by
Pat_B
on October 18, 2013 at 2:24 PM
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Show Arthur your beautiful Ghost. That will chase all thoughts of what the Sister ate from his mind. ...
posted by
Kabu
on October 18, 2013 at 2:20 PM
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cPJI don't know/what she ordered much to the chagrin/of Arthur who said I must live on a different planet./ She said the small beetroots were served/with the tops twisted off and the root intact…
'I suppose I was not interested,' I explained succinctly …
Weaving between people who tried to move the same way I planned.
I had dipped my toe, talked a bit wet, and tried to make conversation
previously in a vague romantic gesture…
One is filled with a sense of one's own mortality and may fear the retention
of similar maladies or re-inflict one's self with the same problem quite easily…
I tried randomly to get together a greeting not to be forgotten easily.
I had about one million parts of a second…
I brushed away the cobwebs that were obscuring my previous fortunate reprieve.
and tried to behave gallantly
And so, these are the beats in your poem that I find to offer comment sir. I now state my analysis: Nice poem sir. BC-A, Bill’s R®ST 
posted by
BC-A
on October 18, 2013 at 1:34 PM
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I find it interesting to read of people's restaurant experiences...The ending reminds me how tough it can be to find that balance.
posted by
FormerStudentIntern
on October 18, 2013 at 11:56 AM
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I still like your poetry even though we seldom go out to eat, I'm much to clumsy.
posted by
UtahJay
on October 18, 2013 at 10:38 AM
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CCT
What's with Arthur's insistence that people's menu preferences must be a matter of deep interest to others? Your thoughts on sidewalk encounters (I know you call it the 'pavement', LOL) as well asd the woman who recognized your hat are both poetic and beautifully analytical...
posted by
Nautikos
on October 18, 2013 at 9:52 AM
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