this is a picture
or more of
a window into a
roadside bar, where
trucks parked on gravel
surround
a place I know
too well to be tranquil,
a place for solemn meditation,
mediation between my things.
although subtle thoughts get
broken apart by the occasional
loud mouth stepping up,
what he sees as his life’s work,
is a seldom at bat,
and there is peace here
more often than at home alone.
inquiring for a menu with my beer,
the cute as a baby-doll girl that came
for my order
wondered later why I had barely
touched my steak sandwich,
