One Man's Storm is Another's...Storm

Existence itself is a pain in the ass: the constant
Toil, for water, for food, for safety, one's own,
And for one's children. Also, there's this, I say
To myself, as I trudge down the sidewalk, soaked
By the rain. At the corner of Timmons and First,
I come to door of the Komfy Kafe. Its windows are
Fogged. When I enter, I see all the faces I see all
The time around here. Some stop chewing and
Offer hellos. Others keep going. From far in the
Back, in a booth, I hear Howard. He's calling to me.
“Sit over here. Try to be sociable.” He's in the
Overalls he always wears, and he's halfway
Through pancakes and sausage and toast. I
Examine the menu. I know it by heart. Howard
Is smiling. “Beautiful day,” he says, pieces of
Pancake flying toward me. “You don't believe
That, do you, you dog?” Slightly disgusted,
I shake my head. “No.” “Because it's so wet!
I can't plow, or do anything. Irma's in Lincoln
To visit her sister, so I'm staying here. Isn't life
Grand?” “Maybe it is,” I answer. I order,
The pain in my ass having gone.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 44 times
Written on 2010-05-10 at 16:20

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