i’m inside with the record player
“Nows the Time”
a Steve Allen hand-me-down

one child’s asleep,
i’m working as a short order cook
for the other.
i’m devouring a novel
while upstairs he chats.

i can relate to his desire.
talking to girls on the phone
late at night
was my specialty.
“get off the phone”
i yell anyway.

when the lights are out
i go to the garage,
turn on public radio
and now some eleventh hour
happenstance Shostakovich concerto
is the soundtrack
of my cigarette.


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