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Lunch Rush
take a deep breath and forget everything you know
except your hands and the tickets
fingers move,
just paper and a groove in the brain
meditate, the mind goes blank
nothing, only crickets
as time breaks down, the outside disappears
this town does not exist
except where white paper slips
away, torn down from metal banisters
the crumpled crunching rhythm
the beat of what comes
march to the beat of crumbs that fall to the floor
wiped away by the sanitizer towel
Style / type:
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity):
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Editing stage:
Content level:
Not Explicit Content
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Comments
Geezer
Thu, 2021-12-02 23:33
This reads like...
a description of a job. It almost sounds as though you are describing a ticket-seller. Or someone with a very repetitious job.
Your use of punctuation is ambiguous at best, although, it could be the way that the lines are written. Too late to give you my opinion of how they should be written. [Late night and tired]. Overall, a good piece, that lets me feel the desperation of the writer. ~ Geezer.
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There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.
large marge
Mon, 2021-12-06 17:40
thank you!
punctuation is a weak point of mine, and definitely something to work on. And good guess, but its actually about line cooking and the slips of receipt paper that have the orders written on them. ill have to work on making that less ambiguous in my edits as well
author commentGeezer
Mon, 2021-12-06 18:17
Got it...
I can see that! I see the crumbs falling to the floor have actual meaning, rather than symbolic meaning. Your explanation makes it all clear now! ~ Geezer.
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There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
This must be the place, 'cause there ain't no place like this place anywhere near this place.