By: JD DeHard
As we discuss what is for dinner
I notice the thin rail above our heads
Looking left and right, I see
Almost invisible, the line enclosing us
I turn to you, you turn to me
We are but fiction, I say
A story within a greater story
And wonder who is doing the telling
Oh, well, you shrug
Continuing to propose the virtues
Of fish on a plate.
Categories: Poetry