Poetry: ‘2 a.m.’

Fringe ArtsPoetryEva Wilson — Published October 14, 2021 1 minute

There is an A&W on the corner of my street. 

I imagine myself on my way over at 2 a.m.

It’s open 24/7

and they just came out with a veggie burger.

But that’s not why I’d go.

I’d be dressed in baggy clothes, accessorized with homemade baggy eyes, 

taking myself out for a late night study dinner break. 

Dramatizing work so late. 

Editing.

Thinking. 

Writing. 

Communicating arguments. 

Understanding, but never fully. 

My mind, just like my belly, empties itself 

and takes a long time to fill up, 

though when it does, 

it becomes satisfied for a short moment, 

the digesting starts a new, 

and it feels empty again.

Ready to be fed new thoughts.

Until the editing starts again.

Read more: Maison Choma: more than just food

Read more: First and Last