Best Booths Poems
Taped to the door’s plexiglass pane, a portrait
Of a Savior with ardent heart burning
Sunlight invades with the turning of hinges
Untethering the hospitality of Tony, the lone waiter
His Brazilian arms are swinging doors, open to embrace
He wore fishnet leggings to the Halloween Jamboree
Leather corset paired with his jet black hair,
Moving with grace at the age of seventy
To the right of the register towering above
The marble counter, the burnout teen dreams
Of welding underwater. A master of sparks
Under the pressure of the indomitable sea
Within his perspective the walls contort,
Xanax whispers in voices of an angel’s Hark
“They won’t know if the register’s short”
Behind the oven is the maestro of cheese and painted tomato
Luis whistles and sings ballads in the tongues of banda
Smiling at nothing with teeth all jagged and yellow
Welcoming all who wander with an “Ah mi amigo, ¿como estas?”
A jolly grin and laughing lungs lift a belly made of pizza dough
The oiled gears of a restaurant’s engine, fueled by cervezas
Joe rides into the shop he owns on his jet black Harley
To work with the line cooks in his leather steel toed boots
He was once Philly cop, and he may still be stuck in center city
He never lets his gun leave the secure embrace of his belt loop
Yet under such a Italian-American macho man brovato
Lies the soul of a tender soul that loves to cook for his community
Across the street, sunflowers raise their winter withered heads
The sizzling steak sandwiches sing in a chorus of cholesterol
The leather booths welcome anyone escaping the World’s dread
So come to Carmines, a source of solace for any and all
they make your feet
as you dance to the beat
yes the sweat
that you can best
will stink make you wink
but you toot
in thoses
DANCING BOOTHS
theyer on hiways
and biways
some the worker
or jerker
but cute they toot
in those
TOSS BOOTHS
I got freaked out the girl said. It was a wow.
I stretched my dog-ears to hear “….store now.”
She was sitting in a booth two tables away.
I walked to the bathroom to peek at her today.
blonde hair and light blue eyes, maybe a Norse?
she was one of those cutie petooties of course.
Her friend had taken the conversation over.
No one could hear it, not even my poodle named Rover.
I returned to my seat and picked up the book.
Pretended it was entertaining, in this tiny nook.
My waitress came over and tried to speak to me.
By now I could hear her voice again, the pretty young she.
“shh!” I said to the waitress, as I sent her away.
The excited voice was quiet now on this dreary May day.
I have no idea what she was trying to say.
But I feel I missed an entire novel this ugly Tuesday.
snow s around soon
mabe at the full moon
when snow looks white
the nights bright
and lights up the night
and i got some loots
as we shop and stop
i bought
THESE BOOTHS
seasons shift so do eras
moughal era
british india era
parliamentary governance era
america;russia may make an offer to grow to next level
but make india sovereign dependent
britain with brexit may grow english speaking population to next level
but make india again sovereign dependent
china with another fusion sun and gunsmithing may
shoot you down,make india sovereign dependent
find leader in you
rally to polling booths
the diners are silent,
and close before dusk,
solitary kettles boil,
in quiet homes glowing in the night,
and unringing phones.
how are you today?
is all we ever say,
and one day we’ll all get together