ABOUT

CONTENTS

EDITORIAL

ARCHIVE

LAGNIAPPE

MAST

SUBMISSIONS

the city of daily emergencies

Some days sense comes hard, the mind's halves
like two cops, rubbing their nightsticks
and looking for a word
they can beat into syllables.

In the city of daily emergencies
it's easy to get trapped between
the breakdowns and the bill collectors
the porches like broken teeth, the cars like cages.

But don't worry, the world will end
in little ways: arriving home early to hear
voices in your shower, or waking with a whisper
of doubt in the bones.



regulars

Every bar has its regulars
take the old guy near the stage
the guy who looks like Cagney

The guy who could be your uncle
telling war stories, checking
under your Buick for loose linkage
or pulling a magic quarter from behind
your son's ear

The guy who comes in every night
knows the box scores
has met Sinatra
and can light a match one-handed

The guy who pays the junky dancer
ten to flash him
then squints up into her crotch
as if searching between the couch pillows
for his keys

When the music stops you look across
the bar at each other: the dead
can always recognize the dead.



Dan, Dan

You could see him every night
walking up the darkened road
toward the diner
wearing his fur-lined parka
hood pulled tight around his face
no matter what the season.

Back-lit by the headlights
of ascending cars
he was a bear
weighed 250 pounds
and always took the back booth
where he shadow-boxed
with the ghosts that taunted him.

They say he was a millionaire
owned a demolition company
and a mansion with pruned hedges
but to us on the graveyard shift
he was an English muffin
four times down
butter on the side.

The waitresses made up songs
about him—
"Dan, Dan the Muffin Man"
stuff like that
they'd sing it in the back room
during their break
but Dan never seemed to notice.

He'd sit for hours
sipping a tall iced tea
occasionally muttering something like
"big-assed ballplayers"
then leave a generous tip
and walk back down the hill
into the brand new sun.

It was the only way we knew
when to quit.