Perhaps to dream at the ocean

I think it was the ocean – brilliant waters
softly breaking
me loose from my dull reality –
that spared a glimpse, or at least
a brief broken specter into
the dancing fancies of scrambling crabs
scuttling sideways for
an admiring female with discerning tastes
of garlic butter and lemon.

I know it was the crab – drumming pincers
rhythmically beating
me loose from my imagination –
that clutched my big toe in claws
unable to feel pain, and, appreciating the irony,
I retreated to the Fish Shack
to taste delicious revenge among
the garlic crab legs.


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019

Written for a few prompts:


Wives’ tales

If you can believe such things, they say now
that tea does not cause kidney stones – it was just
an old wives’ tale. Who are these duplicitous wives
telling such tales? What tricksters live in perfidy,
spreading lies, treason on a tongue so long deprived
of such sweet, iced beverage betraying
its watery beginning with sugary self-improvement.

My wife told me today that wine – that delicious
confection, so warm in my throat, a comforting
inverted blanket covering me inside out,
with a loving embrace – may be causing my pants
to also embrace me too close. Et tu, brute?


Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019


For Katherine (2)

        With all the authority of a mime sprinting to a parking meter
he exclaimed, “Two-ply is the greatest invention in human history!”
         We didn’t know how to respond
but in thinking about it,
as one does, presented with a truth universally expounded even from
behind,

        we gathered
back together,
seated outside the cafe while the sun
reared fluffy clouds skyward, and concluded for
posterity’s sake:
         human rumps do prefer two-ply.


(c) by Phillip Knight Scott

Written in response to no prompt ever.