Diner Breakfast With Jeff


Eggs sausage homefries toast
coffee good talk and plenty of laughs,
sometimes into the afternoon— 
in DC, Chicago, Maryland, Ohio
and countless other American cities,
towns, highway truck stops
and two-lane crossroads
with country on the jukebox,
waitresses that call us “hon,”
treat us like their sons even now
when we're older than they are.
How we love that bottomless
cup of Joe, formica table tops,
people in their booths who know
each other, but don't know us
living lives so unlike our own.
It's always different,
always the same,
and it never grows old,
even after all these years.
not even after forty years.





Resolution


the bathing suit is packed away,
the wools are out,
flannels hang in the closet

time to waterproof the old hiking boots
and pack away the sandals

another summer passed
when we didn't get to the beach
as often as we'd like

now the leaf-strewn trails beckon,
and I swear, by God, I’m going to
get out there and hike
a thousand miles before spring
the fresh, clear, blue-sky days of autumn





How Things Are Done


In a park by the river near downtown
we watched a construction crew
work on a bridge.  A huge crane
moved steel girders slowly into place.
We sat on the grass, Jack and I,
for a long time.  At two
that sort of thing fascinated him.
It was a warm summer day.
We had pb and j sandwiches
and a cooler with milk from home.
It might not seem like much
of an afternoon, but we often
did that sort of thing,
together out in the world
learning how things are done.