breakfast by ziska

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Submission Name: breakfast dots

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Author:	ziska
ASL Info:	25/f/md
Elite Ratio:	7.58 - 121/106/33
Words:	177

Class/Type:	Prose/Serious
Total Views:	164
Average Vote:	No vote yet.
Bytes:	1144

Description:
a musing, of sorts.

breakfast dots

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busy, busy days :
taking a moment now to reflect
on earl grey tea
and a toasted cinnamon bagel

(toasted, by the way, on the toaster oven that is now sitting on my ex-co-workers desk in his office. you leave the company and we replace you with a kitchen appliance. sorry, randall )

i wonder what they will replace me with?

i breathe in deeply and sigh
this too, shall pass.

i've gone from the high rise door entry passcode punching to cracked asphalt parking lots decorated by bright plastic trash. from the sleek marble engraved walls to paper signs held to dirty glass doors with scotch tape.

and I couldn't be happier.

...

busy busy days,
thinking back on that final breakfast
that left me hungry through the day.

like words.

trying to explain the changes you have to make.

like life.

passing me by even as my hands are reaching into empty air trying to grasp its formlessness.

Submitted on 2006-11-02 10:11:20 Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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||| Comments |||
  Ahh reminds me of my days at the BofA as a collections specialist. Definately the most hated group in America next to lawers. Ugh bad memories and I am glad that is a long past memory. Anyway I can't thank you for the memory but I do like this piece.

6
| Posted on 2006-11-15 00:00:00 | by fryte | [ Reply to This ]
  "you leave the company and we replace you with a kitchen appliance."
--That's a bitter-sad realization to come to terms with, and aptly said.

"i wonder what they will replace me with?

i breathe in deeply and sigh
this too, shall pass."
--A good question, pertinent to anyone's mindframe... sad yet again, but hopeful.

And to be happier to find a new job, even if it seems it's not as high up the ladder or better-paying or whatever--it's happiness that counts, right? As opposed to stress, or more stress than is fit to handle with what's perhaps a high-pressure job you've just left.

I don't have any suggestions either, I'm afraid. I think this prose-piece works well already--by showing a story suffused with truth and realness in an episode of your life, and how the 'formlessness' of life can change just like that, to a new world of surprises over the horizon.

Hope you like your new job.
Peace,

Jase
| Posted on 2006-11-06 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
  My first impression is that there are 2 poems in there - can you see it? Then I read it again and go: "Needs work..." But this is just the reaction of a poet who probably over-works his verse then it loses the sort of fun that I got from reading Breakfast! Reading it some more ... there are many poems on this website that talk about various aspects of "the waste land". It's actually a genre begun perhaps in the 1930's by T.S.Eliot's poem with that title! Well, considering that sort of poem, I like Breakfast a lot as a delightful but troubling example!
| Posted on 2006-11-02 00:00:00 | by Glen Bowman | [ Reply to This ]
  busy, busy days :
taking a moment now to reflect
on earl grey tea
and a toasted cinnamon bagel

(toasted, by the way, on the toaster oven that is now sitting on my ex-co-workers desk in his office. you leave the company and we replace you with a kitchen appliance. sorry, randall )

i wonder what they will replace me with?

i breathe in deeply and sigh
this too, shall pass.

i've gone from the high rise door entry passcode punching to cracked asphalt parking lots decorated by bright plastic trash. from the sleek marble engraved walls to paper signs held to dirty glass doors with scotch tape.

and I couldn't be happier.

...

busy busy days,
thinking back on that final breakfast
that left me hungry through the day.

like words.

trying to explain the changes you have to make.

like life.

passing me by even as my hands are reaching into empty air trying to grasp its formlessness.

Sounds as if you stepped away from something large and unfulfilling to suck a little fresh air in your lungs and meditate on why. Or perhaps that megalith spit you out. It doesn't matter, what's done is done is done is done...

Just don't allow your life to become as formless and unfeeling as your place of employment.

Later young lady.
Bill.
| Posted on 2006-11-02 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]

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