An Early Holiday
The sandwich board of the guy in the middle
of Donnell Drive proclaims:
If I were a betting woman, I’d wager that the date
has been pasted over “To Meet.” Pity;
that’s the important part. I would like
to meet my God, though not on Memorial Day weekend.
The truck driver next to me believes
there’s a gun under the boards.
The woman tailgating me believes
she’ll get fired if she’s later than nine.
The minivan mom in the oncoming lane
doesn’t see the prophet, and won’t
until she’s jumped the median
and moved up his meeting time.
And then no one else will know to prepare
except for Delmonico steaks, graveside flowers,
and that first purchase of oils and lotions
to save our thin skins from the sun.