My 35th year was the beginning of a significant shift in my life physically, mentally, and spiritually. I’m committed to the work of aligning myself with my highest good.
My third book is coming this Spring, and I’m excited to share it with you all. Already I can sense things beginning to bubble up in my mind, what’s likely to be the beginning of book 4, but that’s for another day.
I’m surrounded by so much love, and my wonder remains intact and sparking; no man luckier than I.
I hadn’t thought about this free verse poem in a while. Before the pandemic, one of my favorite places to write was a restaurant booth or in a coffeehouse somewhere- surrounded by lives being lived and the hustle of the day. The electric air thick with poetry.
Please, come back.
The Musings of a Future Yelper:
They’ve never been able to maintain a restaurant at this location, and many have tried.
It’s not a bad spot, either. Downtown, right on the avenue, the best bars within walking distance.
I’ve sampled every establishment that attempts to put roots down here. They’ve all been decent enough.
For whatever reason, the people won’t come. Sushi, Burgers, Piano Bar, it makes no difference.
I’ve sampled cuisine from four different countries and sat in the same shitty booth each time.
Outside, the rain falls steadily. It’ll be this way for the next several days, and I’m sad my daughter might not get her last train ride of the season.
Three men enter the restaurant and sit directly in my line of sight.
Above me, a TV plays sports highlights and when they watch, it feels like they’re staring.
Maybe they are? I’ve reached that elusive point in life where it makes no difference.
The burger and fries are too salty— what a shame.
My waitress asks how everything tastes, and I lie to make her feel better. She smiles her crooked smile and fixes her peroxide-blonde hair.
I ask for my ticket and she’s out of sight again. I begin to review my latest poem.
I’m writing about food a lot lately. I’ll be yelping before you know it.
Outside, the rain pours on, gathering into puddles and flowing down the drain.
Like all the wasted minutes in a life.
-Brandon White
The above poem, “The Musings of a Future Yelper, ” appears in my debut poetry collection, The Year that Stole the Light Away (Raw Earth Ink). Click the cover to purchase a copy!
Brandon White 