My Dad used to hangout in
this place that scared me when
I was a kid looking for him.
Here I was,
Looking again, not for
continuity or connection,
no, just looking for that Maxfield Parrish
river of beer on a rainy afternoon.
The shuffleboard table
was free,
free because no one
could face those chrome
pucks and that slippery deck.
A deck so long it wasn’t worth it.
Flossy, still behind the bar,
Flossy who used to tell my
Dad to go home,
Flossy made the connection.
It was written on her face,
another son following the path.
Flossy had seen it a thousand times.
It’s business.
“Can I get a hamburger
and another Liney?”
“Sure, Doll,” Flossy said.
Retired Las Vegas teacher now a hospice volunteer.
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