Pre-Order

did you pre-order the smiling hostess asks

I shake my head no, and she says to go upstairs

I trudge up the small wooden stairs with 20 coats of brown paint

downtown lunch hour and it’s 40 minutes to cook deep dish

so you better pre-order unless you just want a quick bite or make your own lunch schedule

I sit down and look at the glossy menu with the pretty generic pictures

pizzas, italian beefs, strombolis, calzones, chicken parmigiana sandwiches 

beer domestic or imported- wine for the connoisseurs 

I decide for the deep dish, I got plenty of time 

I order and then stare at my phone- like a long lost friend 

a life preserver in a raging sea of awkwardness 

at the table next to me is two fast approaching middle age women and a guy from a 1950’s coffee table magazine 

who asks one of the women “how is your mother in terms of health?”

they look bored out of their skulls but he must be paying

plastic plants desperately look like they need some water

cliche checkerboard tablecloths on the tables pictures of local celebrities on the walls

little gun metal gray elevator dings when they send something up from the kitchen

mister balding, black frame glasses glances at his designer timex and says to the two women “Let's rock and roll” 

probably an exciting insurance seminar to get to 

no reaction from the two casting agency office women 

they just look at each other with blank stares

as animated as the plastic plants

It's Always Sinatra

ice cold queen bed with heavy heavy homemade quilt

made by some old grandma, not sure whom

gray furnace thumping in the spare bedroom

with the new obsolete record player

plays some old records I got at an auction 

a 45 that has russian military instrumentals on both sides 

heartaches by the number by someone named guy mitchell

a record about a poor little robin walking to missouri

nothing I'd ever heard of

no rare beatles records or valuable gems 

I never get that lucky 

they say it will snow overnight and into tomorrow --probably a foot

severe storm warning posted for the central part of the state 

if so, the interstate may be blocked by the blowing winds creating whiteout conditions 

sporadically working electric stove, toaster oven, a little food in the fridge

keep the water dripping so the pipes don’t freeze

winter time--not many people down to the lake now

nights are eerily quiet when you step outside for a smoke

not like summer--swimming, boating, frolicking

tourists out the yingyang

but now just locals and a few hardy out of towners like myself 

dinner at the forum restaurant--red carpet, drapes and soft music

out of place in this country town where you can buy

tongue and brain sandwiches down the street

new york steak medium well, steak fries, dinner rolls

always good—might be the last good meal for a while

sinatra playing over the speakers--it’s always sinatra

I’ve been in here fifty times and it’s always sinatra

waitress teaches full time at the high school--interesting

raising two teenagers herself she tells me 

two other people in the place

hot dogs, crackers, beans, potato chips at home

maybe some canned peaches, should of stocked up

too late now, grocery store closed at six

go to bed warily anticipating the next few days

woke up in the morning dreading to look outside 

--not even a dusting- idiot weathermen

The Lucky Ones Are Dead

my favorite fruit is melancholy

I dress in black except when I'm dressed in black

I have a miniature cemetery in my yard with tombstones

there must be dead things in there

ants beetles crickets a-z

dead leaves appropriately lie in it

a lookalike freshly covered over grave

fresh grave chic I like to think of it

cenotaph like concrete block in the east 40

read the obituaries anyone I know?

my name will be there someday, will anyone care?

all my family is dead or in prison

the lucky ones are dead so it sayeth in Ecclesiastes 4: 2

visiting graveyards is my pastime 

it’s quiet, calming, puts things in perspective as they like to say

why does it grip me like a hand reaching out from a crypt?

maybe it’s because both my grandparents

had houses next to cemeteries

spent hours walking around them while the adults played pinochle

on maple dining room tables with a ubiquitous leaf

drinking highballs from fancy glass tumblers

french doors led to the front parlor where the grandfather clock lived

the television was in there

always seemed that british show the avengers was on

—-I can’t explain this fascination

personally I’m opting for cremation

spread my ashes in the bay

float away float away