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Thinking
Your elbow rests on the table
Your chin tangent to your
Fist your ears steady on some
Hints your eyes focused beyond
This wall this common obstruction
Of emotional camouflage
Your face is the façade
Of this serious edifice
Your nose smells something
Pungent and offensive
Your mind opens
Your heart tries to understand
Some winged and flapping
Gains momentum and then
Flies away to heights
Your mouth is as usual
Closed and your teeth grinds
There is no food or grain
Just air in between
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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