Waiter
The car gulps the gasoline
by itself. The nozzle and hose
hang from the tank’s mouth
like a cigarette. A loud click
from the handle, and the black hose
twitches. Full. $26.81. My hand
back on the handle, depressing
the trigger in short bursts. $26.89.
$26.98. I’m trying for an even number,
whole, no pennies swimming from
my bank account to the Shell station,
just invisible bills. This is the game
we keep engaging in, Finding
a Good Stopping Point by
Seeing Clues in the Universe.
We imagine a cohesive creature
gazing at us across the ping pong
table, eyebrows raised to see
if we are ready for what it will
bat toward us. The waiter,
that’s us, twisting the top
of the pepper grinder like a
door knob, black dust covering
our guest’s dish like soot.
Tell me when, that’s us,
grinding, waiting. Say when.
I connect. Also...I filled the gas tank yesterday.
ReplyDeleteThis makes me smile and even chuckle, though not at that gas bill and my own inability to stop the "pennies swimming" , although I've managed to keep the car home most days.
ReplyDeleteNice end line at "back on the handle, depressing". I especially like how you close out, beginning with "The waiter...." Say when, indeed! I imagine more than a few will be saying that tomorrow.
Have a lovely Thanksgiving, Hannah. Stopping here always adds delight to my day.
I swear, you must look for similes and metaphors all day, every day. Well, we're all the better for it. My favorites today:
ReplyDeleteThe nozzle and hose
hang from the tank’s mouth
like a cigarette.
The waiter,
that’s us, twisting the top
of the pepper grinder like a
door knob, black dust covering
our guest’s dish like soot.
"Wait". Proactive or not, that's what we do. When is the best stopping point? Are there really good clues in this universe? Maybe in our self-constructed universe. We are waiters. A jump from the mundane (waiting on tables) to the ultimate metaphysical measure: will this place tell us when waiting is no longer necessary? It is apt that this line is found in the middle of the lines (the mundane images of waiting). They revolve around it. Good work, H.
ReplyDeleteHow did you ever find a way to stop this poem?
ReplyDeleteTell me when, so perfect relating that image to the clicking of the gas hose.
ReplyDelete