Agency Picnic

(A bit of a shaggy dog for the One Single Impression Notebook” prompt.  I know, I know: it doesn’t show up until the penultimate line, but there it is…sorta. For what it’s worth, the original draft was written in an actual notebook at an actual agency picnic.)

Agency Picnic

He’s totally unsurprised
at the annual agency picnic
by the overabundance of peas
in the overly mayonaised and
Tupperwared macaroni salads.
He had accurately foreseen
the predictable and sad lack
of plastic forks, or spoons, or
knives of any kind despite the
saucy heaps and gobs of orange
boneless chicken and sweetly
greasy sausages
far too big for buns.

He finds all of his dire, early
pathetically vindicated
by a barrelful of warm
soda, soggy potato chips,
and all the happy people
intent on stopping by
to say hello, heedless
of his careful choice of a
quiet, shady spot far away
from the charcoal fumes,
the volleyball nets, 
the raffle ticket man.

None of the few hot babes
arriving late in bathing suits
with their official husbands
pay him any mind and he,
seriously if only unofficially
hooked, is grateful for that
merciful anonymity and he’s
glad when the shutterbugs
don’t bite. When things start
to wind down, he turns a page,
lights a smoke, and smiles.

4 thoughts on “Agency Picnic

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