Bailey Bujnosek
From a wedge I squeeze…
a few choice
drops of lemon juice
into my coke.
. . . . . . I set the wedge, still
. . . . . . . . . . . dripping, on the
. . . . . . . . . . . . . tablecloth. A little
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . damp spot forms.
. . . . . . . * . . . . . . . . . I scoop out one
. . . . . . . . . . . . .*. . . . . . . seed with my
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . thumbnail.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I flick it down
. . . . . . . * . . . . . . . . . . . . . . to the cement,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .*. . a dot of liquid.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Soon, it will
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * . . . . . evaporate.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I sip the coke
. . . . . .* . . . . . . . . . . . . . from a straw
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . but don’t taste
.*. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . the lemon.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Was it all for
. . . . . . . . . . . . . nothing? I pick
. . . . . . . . . . . . up the wedge
. * . . .. . . . and squeeze
. . . . . . . . a few choice
drops of lemon juice
into my coke.
Bailey Bujnosek is a writer from Southern California. Her essays, articles, and interviews can be found in Teen Vogue, Girls' Life, The Adroit Journal, and elsewhere. Her poetry has been featured in Bright Lite.
a few choice
drops of lemon juice
into my coke.
. . . . . . I set the wedge, still
. . . . . . . . . . . dripping, on the
. . . . . . . . . . . . . tablecloth. A little
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . damp spot forms.
. . . . . . . * . . . . . . . . . I scoop out one
. . . . . . . . . . . . .*. . . . . . . seed with my
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . thumbnail.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I flick it down
. . . . . . . * . . . . . . . . . . . . . . to the cement,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .*. . a dot of liquid.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Soon, it will
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . * . . . . . evaporate.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I sip the coke
. . . . . .* . . . . . . . . . . . . . from a straw
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . but don’t taste
.*. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . the lemon.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Was it all for
. . . . . . . . . . . . . nothing? I pick
. . . . . . . . . . . . up the wedge
. * . . .. . . . and squeeze
. . . . . . . . a few choice
drops of lemon juice
into my coke.
Bailey Bujnosek is a writer from Southern California. Her essays, articles, and interviews can be found in Teen Vogue, Girls' Life, The Adroit Journal, and elsewhere. Her poetry has been featured in Bright Lite.