"Past Closing"
Infomercials are the new
national anthem. By 2:00 a.m.
my choice is Ron Popeil
or a repeat of O’Reilly
repeating himself.
I myself repeat the argument
we wouldn’t have if you were here,
twist the frayed dishcloth a bit
more tightly into the glass for emphasis.
We have beer in the fridge,
wine in the cellar—I pause my mental diatribe,
chuckle at that couple, who, fuzzy
with Korbel, built the rack to find
their estimates meant a bottle
wouldn't fit one slot in five.
Later, folding clothes, I have to start
a pile to be rewashed—at this hour
anyone might forget and wipe their eyes,
their nose. Finally, I put it all away,
leaving your brassieres
in the basket. I don’t go near
that drawer in which I might
see your gold ring lying
among those dozen soft-cupped hands
if not still on your finger.
© 2008 Will Eastland
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