By Linda Eve Diamond 


My stomach churned as Helen’s rage burned
about her "idiot" boss, "idiot" mother, "idiot" father—
who sounded pretty smart to me.

Again, an idiot served her awful coffee
then another slowed her down with a flat tire.

Idiots ran departments and idiots mopped the floors,
Idiots called, idiots wrote, idiots poured through the doors.

Chicken flew from her gaping mouth
Spewing fowl as she chewed her foul words.

I wondered why she was always surprised
in her self-described self-prescribed idiot world.

I pictured it darkened by an idiot sun,
lit by an idiot moon, spun by the dumb luck
of an idiot god on an axis inside Helen’s head.

My stomach was taut with clenching tension
again—but will I ever learn?

Of all the contenders in her idiot parade,
I was the idiot of the day—for lunching again with Helen.

©2007 Linda Eve Diamond, The Human Experience


~ Lunching with Helen was honored with a 2002 Coffee House Press Editor's Choice Award. ~

All content is © Linda Eve Diamond unless otherwise noted.
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