June 3, 2020

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

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