I ask the waitress if
she can break a
50, like I’m some kind of
big timer,
but it’s just left over from
a good evening at the
sports book, months ago
“yes sir!” she says
with a bored look in
her eyes
I finish the last bit of toast
and coffee,
it feels like
everything is screaming
for me to be
dissatisfied
but I can’t do it.
I push the door open
the pleasant
sound of the bell
tied to the
handle
I think about
how it would be nice to
have a girl with me
someone to
take to the used
book store
browse
eastern philosophy,
dog-eared science fiction,
burned out best sellers,
fishing
almanacs,
sumerian diets…
I skip the book store,
turn off the football on the
radio
there’s a restaurant
or bar by the traffic light,
they’ve got a patio and
as I roll to a stop
I hear some kid singing
his ass off
they’ve got a stack of
logs by the gate
and a small fire
the glasses
on the table shine
and everyone
looks very involved and
kind
I see the chalkboard they’ve put up as a menu
“oysters and beer”
“damn right,” I respond
and the light changes and
I could drive
all night