l u n c h

l u n c h

A Poem Written in Love, or Good Faith

Zachary Luck Fly

September 2026

01

☰

Lunch is good

Carrots for lunch

Gucci’s has better service

But to Tiffany’s I go–

I purchased dinnerware after the meal

The plates were colored navy

And were stacked to sell

I only know the Florida haunts

Because Uncle Allen was generous

And he said, Come, look, see–

This is where San Francisco hovers, toward the end

It’s easy to agree on Florida

Florida was soup du jour

And toward the end, thought became like one foot after another

We were feeding her and feeding her

Every word she said was important

Yes, even at the restaurant

We prayed for her to be fed

It was like we were feeding her

Every word she said was important

Because they were her words

A little more life, then

More life than seasons past

A clear mind

A new mind

Only that we loved her

We wanted to hear what she had to say

Lunch was served

All in Christ

The angels, in Christ

Off to the pool

The three or four or five of us

The man with the blue eyes

Offered Kendall a box of juice

She thought about it, and said yes

The pool was sparkling

We ordered lunch

Lunch was imaginary to God

It had not yet been spoken

Was not yet a word

Was not yet formed

The townsfolk beyond the pool walked to church

One of us at the pool left to adore the Virgin,

As the emotions had been upset – this was before

Before lunch had been served?

Before lunch had been served

Ding!

Now serving tarragon chicken, sliced thin

Two ladies to tan

The standard deck chairs

Blue stripes today

If you look askance,

The color is confident in itself

Two deck chairs,

Two ladies

And Rose still asking for ice

The diners left perfectionism for risk

A more excellent kind of think

And still all the work gets done

Not intentional, not accidental

Just human, one day at a time

The music played

To feel I had had enough

The music played,

And Rose was at last satisfied on ice

The tanners did ballet legs,

Or checked their phones

Good news, good news

Elsewhere, the soldiers had their beans and had their coffees

Cheer boys, cheer

The star shone over Los Angeles

And the commerce of the day was smooth

Thanks for heavenly gifts

To not invoke the ire, to step lightly, to disappear

Though, here I was

Wondering about beauty

And this is still dancing

A small dog had snuck in

And the staff smiled blindly

A lucky day to be poor,

Looking for a phone number

Adrian skimmed the pool with her eyes

The tanners skimmed their legs

The lap swimmers began

Management had had the thought

To close the facility, once

Child in sheep’s clothing

Beggar, beggar, one more day

I had seen them in a dream

Poor, homeless, in Paris, dining on lettuce

So the pool was left to operate

Honey Bunny

What’s the soup of the day?

She’s older now,

And California is the mountains, not the beach

To and fro,

The cougars go

gun gun bang bang

The uncles’ unfortunate goings off

The many unfortunate goings off

It was quite the gaggle

Adrian, Kendall, the blue eyed man, and I

I was fragile,

But coming around

What novel are you reading?

Lizzie, Liza, Elizabeth

The cover of the book is pink, respect

And today I said my own name

These nice things you can do for yourself

I love you Zach

I hope you feel better soon

Feelings; and aside, emotions– a temper, a sweetness

What you can get away with

Sometimes I would catch myself hopeful

A star was there, after all,

With a soft song– look, see, God willing

Found a note from the angel

From long ago

Talking about the pen

02

☰

September

Ate maple leaf like the caterpillar

We knew that we were little

And one of us was not flexible

And one of us was marked

Robbing a bank at the North Pole

Counter

I do not wait for drugs

I do not wait brown paper packages

Ate the paper, without waiting

The rabbit brought it over to my feet, and ate and ate

Child in sheep’s clothing

Either way

The eye of the immortal

The eye of Christ

Saw you— he fell, and you were

Bushel of the weeks

Fourteen days of striding

At last, out of the oil slicker

Rain very fine, mist very fine

Recovered, at last, from toothlessness

Long legs and a warm fire

Thanks for life

Simple as the mountain

Home again, home again

A pale meekness crept over my house

And the old folks were as they should be

Today was fruitless and black-black

But the rabbits danced in the evening

And I heard the sounds of myself

Looking for the secret

Fog and mist soon over the lovely trees

And the neighbors quiet as a fish

Perhaps what he said was true

That for me there is no such thing as Return

Absolution

House of Riddles

Something generous that made me happy

A novella I had written

And saw a reflection of

Robin-out-of-doors

Germanic secrets: again, I would like to be the opera

Inspiration, she calls to me

And now I feel fulfilled

Sweet moments that cannot be fully savored, yet

Heal, healing, healed