The Widow’s Walk
Along the roof
So she could see
If her husband would
be coming home
Anchored to her son
She plowed ahead
While he trawled the depths
With broken nets
The soup of grey-blue fog
The stench of stagnant waves
A sickly breeze
Cold and damp
The lighthouse lost
What light it had
The Balustrade
Along the roof
Dressed in black
She wipes her nose
From behind her veil
She looks down
To wipe her nose
This is how it works, Sir
Make your money
Then wait in line to
Spend your money
Be the seventh
Out of seventeen cars
Waiting in line
To pick up your food, Sir
Talk to the man
With the nametag
Who’s come outside in the rain
With an electronic pad
To take your order
To expedite the service
To get you your food faster, Sir
Tell him the number you want
The second out of eight
But bigger
And yes, you’ll pay more, Sir
Comfort is always worth more, Sir
Wait behind the minivan
With two adults
And three children
And four flags
One sticking out of each window
An American flag
And three more stitched
With football team logos, Sir
Be the third now
Out of twenty
You beat the rush
Thank God for that
Don’t look at the other cars
And they won’t look at you
This is how it works, Sir
