Beer, Wings and Napkin Revelations

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other.."

I hear a man's voice
mingle with
pool balls rumbling
across green felt
while I stare out
a window laced with
dried-out flies and
drooping spider webs

Sitting in this restaurant
whose name I can never remember
with its sandwich board outside
half-stating today's specials
in kiddy-plastic letters

There's an N and a T missing
telling me it's

ALL YOU CAN EAT
WI G NIGH TONIGHT

Walls decorated with
old license plates and
45's with smiling orange
faces wearing cowboy hats

Damn I like the greasy fries
with salt and lots of ketchup
slowly making its way down
the glass Heinz bottle

Half listening to New Country music
the kind I really hate when
I'm in the city

But here it makes these fries
and sweaty glass of beer
go down real easy
for some reason
I'll likely never know

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other..."

I'm still wondering
what that means
Still wondering why
I cage myself with
the idea of hate and
thinking I know it all

especially when the beer
goes down so cool

Overheard conversations
and the newness of pool cues
gently slicing the air

I will never travel far enough
to find myself
I'll just sit and
wipe my hands again
with this soggy napkin
I've been using for
half an hour

Open it up like
a strange fortune cookie
See its crumpled
old woman's face

I'll just sit here
instead of moving on

It's ALL YOU CAN EAT

WI G NIGH TONIGHT

That's what I know

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