by Tim Chiu
A poem about a salad and its lost cherry tomato.
|I stroll into the medium-sized lunchroom
For fresh-brewed coffee at a quarter past noon
To find my spirited co-worker preparing
To devour a devilishly stacked,
Transparent to-go box deliciously layered
In multi-colored salad fixings.
We share wonderful thoughts,
Conversing as we often do,
When she suddenly spears at a cherry tomato –
The tiny red fruit evades her fork
And tumbles in a beeline toward the edge of the table,
Rolling off the paneled surface
Onto the discolored white floor.
The jovial lady appears tickled,
Appraising the fallen fruit,
Then begins to chuckle even more;
She explains, as I laugh along with her,
That the tomato has left a moist, watery streak
On the green tabletop.
Momentarily, we discuss the trajectory, speed,
And velocity of the once-edible salad topping,
Recalling our high school and college math courses
To our very best, good-natured standards,
Relishing our indelible friendship
And delightful spontaneity…