early morning at donut place listening to four old men shoot the breezy shit:
“lucian there has a motorcycle with a bunch of green lights on it.”
“five dollars per light. spent about twelve thousand dollars on those lights.”
“got tipped off by frank in lebanon [indiana]. he’s got a bunch of red lights on his.”
“we knew you had lost your mind.”
“you got a grandson?”
“one in texas. he’s ornery, spoiled. won’t even mow the yard.”
“my grandson is 16, his dad doesn’t let him mow the yard.”
“kids today so lazy. ain’t doing ‘em any favors.”
“that george bush looks the same now don’t he?”
“same as he did when he was a kid. you know it’s him.”
“he’s a good old boy ain’t he?”
“better than the muslim we got now.”
these four old men at this donut place are watching a documentary playing on an old television in the corner about the bush family dynasty. it’s six in the morning. i pay the $2.36 for my donut and coffee. 1950s prices in indiana. all else. they say the elderly are supposed to be wise. full of wisdom and all that. but these old balls here are just a bunch of . . . oh, well, you know what they say: don’t focus on the hole in the donut. maybe i’ll get some green lights for the motorcycle i can’t afford. maybe i’ll mow my yard for a change, drive to lebanon.
Walter Moore has published poems in various journals, served as a journalist for a few newspapers, and taught at the college level for fifteen years. He holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Texas State University and a Ph.D. in American Studies from Purdue University. He lives with his wife Erica and dog-beast Lloyd in Corvallis, where he teaches in the School of Writing, Literature and Film at Oregon State University. Please don’t hesitate to contact him if you need further information: email@example.com. Also check out Walt’s website at www.waltermoorepoetry.com.