Being Unexcused
On a bench, I enact
a kind of dinner scene,
sitting like a child
who claims to be
anything, everything
except hungry
having dragged myself out of
my apartment, and its dead-willed
harboring of stationary
phone juggling
to this spot
and what seems
the mush
of a beautiful river view,
that I am just not taking in,
not a breeze of it,
finally leaving,
feeling at my most unexcused
but then it happens,
just like that,
my steps begin to chew