Sitting amongst the travelers, the tourists, the guides
we are all lunching at the MET
this museum of natural art
a place where everyone seems to find a common ground.
While lunching in the galleries,
we listen to voices, to histories, to pleas
of will you tell me about this,
such a marvelous place to be,
oh the sculptures,
views of Central Park,
family with toddler waltzes through the aisles
while a few nearby smile,
the rest, well maybe the’re hungry
or angry Degas wannabes
Everyone here is on fire with ideals,
perhaps they’ve had an opportunity to finally see that one piece
they lost themselves in one day,
hoping you might able your mind to do the same,
thinking that way,
our lives might
peace and love and that sort of thing.
Funny what we might see while lunching,
feeding our human frenzy,
watch the guy that ignores everyone around while he creates his own space,
not an artist really by any stretch,
in fact looks like he hates the place,
but, damn he’s eating lunch,
and nobody is getting his space.
See the young women, the beauty in dress and composure,
stroll slow past the debonair man, with the bohemian purpose.
Maybe they will, perhaps not, yet sometime along the way,
a song, a visual, a bump through the crowd,
will remind them of this day.
For now we’re just a traveler feeding the human condition,
while lunching at the MET in NYC.