Come back to the funny feet, and the clutter

and the mushroom soup, and the peanutbutter


To the lumpy sofa, and the single bed

and the fern in the bathroom that’s almost dead


come back to the coins and the bills, on the table

and, the tears that I cry when I’m feeling unstable


to the pizza and pepsi, and the crossword puzzles

and, the Tuesday night garbage, and the mid-morning nuzzles


you’ll still arrive more than ten minutes late

taking time for a smoke, while I sit home and wait


we’ll read the paper, and talk about work

I’ll be the neurotic, and you be the jerk


it’ll be you and me, a little give and some take

we’ve still got a whole lot of history to make


come back to the same old thing every night

to your friend, and almost-your-mother-not quite


come back to the funny feet, oh – there’s clutter

and mushroom soup, and some peanut butter?




© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

circa 1984

all rights. who’d steal this ?!

4 thoughts on “1984.

  1. Good afternoon Ruth Ann – I discovered your blog through poetreecreations and I’m certainly glad I came to check it out. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself wandering your site. Your poetry is creative and makes me smile. Your contemplative stories are quite enlightening. Thank you so much for sharing your artistry with us and I’m looking forward to reading much more from you. Hope you have a most beautiful evening…

    Liked by 1 person

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