BLT
Those who soar off mountain cliff
argue through aggressive tattoos and winged suits
that one can play it too safe.
Aspire to be the mole who lives his life
below grade, the best one can hope for
is a feast of grubs.
There’s got to be a middle ground,
buffered from both complacency and desperation,
the slice of heirloom tomato sandwiched between butt ends.
11 thoughts on "BLT"
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Bill! This is beautiful. The extraordinary in the ordinary. What a thoughtful and satisfying way to begin June. Love this! Can’t wait to read more, friend.
Well said!
And so it begins, Bill. A good start for my reading you this month.
I’ll take one of those tomato sandwiches any old time, by the way. It’s all about the mayo, anyhow.
From daredevil to fatalist to sandwich maker. Love all three stanzas, Buddy. Much to think about out in just nine lines.
Bacon!!!! Hi Bill love all what this says and how it says it.
And great to see you and congratulations!! 🎊 IYKYK 😀
Yes, congrats!
nice contrast between the “feast of grubs” and the “slice of heirloom tomato sandwiched between butt ends”
Walking that tightrope middle! That ending is so unexpected, I almost spit out my tea.
This is such a clever and satisfying poem. Using the BLT as a metaphor for finding that perfect middle ground between reckless extremes and safe mediocrity is brilliant. Bill, you always have this wonderful gift for making the mundane feel fresh and profound.
This is hardly in praise of mediocrity, which it might seems. I shouldn’t say, but it smells like humility. Humility as an Heirloom Tomato.
Good to see you here!
Love what you did with an ordinary image- the BLT!