July 2018
Fredric Hildebrand
fhildebrand@new.rr.com
I retired from the practice of cardiology in 2016, and since then I have been learning to pay attention to my environment and see the poetry around me. I live in Neenah, WI, with my wife and two sons. My work has appeared in Verse-Virtual and Millwork. 

At the Ojibwa All-Night Diner


Nothing else open this time of night 
between Spooner and Woodruff. Old man and 
woman shuffle to the first table. Worn 
wood chairs scrape across the chipped 

linoleum floor as they sit. Waitress 
scribbles on her green pad, jet black eyes and 
hair and teenage resignation. Fry cook 
father slumps in his chair and reads a 

newspaper. Kitchen bell interrupts Hank 
Williams belting out “I’m So Lonesome I 
Could Cry” on the chrome and neon Wurlitzer. 
Old man steadies his sandwich, probably 

a cold ham and cheese on whole wheat with 
mustard and onion but no pickle, carefully 
cuts it corner to corner, silently 
slides one half onto his wife’s plate as she 

wearily adjusts her glasses and unrolls 
a napkin. Hank’s voice wails: “Did you ever 
see a night so slow as time goes draggin’ by? 
I’m so lonesome I could cry”.

First published in Millwork 1/18
©2018 Fredric Hildebrand
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