Admit It, Part Of You
Wants To Live Forever
No waiting. The E train
pulled in as my feet hit
the platform and I found
an end seat, stretched out
as it expressed its way
through Queens to catch
a Brooklyn bound G. Today,
my hernia’s resting quietly
and the AC’s a sea breeze.
I’m reading the sign about
wanting to live forever,
wondering if it’s connected
to nearby ads for dating sites
or Paws for Pets. Looking
around, I see three women
I can happily watch without
them even acknowledging
my existence. My IPod
segways from Groovin’
to A Good Feelin’ To Know
as my fingers pick up
the tempo on my thighs.
I’m having lunch with Tom
in Fort Greene, a spinach
mozzarella omelet, home
fries, sausage, and asking
about his week in Cape Cod.
I bring up my recent trip
to Burlington, visiting
my sort of step-son. We talk
music, bow our heads to Brian
Wilson thoughtlessly dying
yesterday on my birthday,
some baseball, mostly Yankees,
Phillies, ICE, Trump and why
neither one of us wants to vote
for Mamdani. But we both will
if it’s against Adams. The waitress
remembers us from last month.
We talked movies, she and Tom
named comedies after I bravely
proclaimed there were hardly
any made worth watching.
Blazing Saddles, Spinal Tap,
There’s Something About Mary
and I surrendered conditionally,
alright I’ll give you three.
Going home, my pocket
tingled and I pulled out my cell,
an old poetry friend, a guy
I hung with when I started
writing, going from one open
reading to another, someone
I don’t see much anymore.
I love his poems, like him
better, connected more
like neighborhood, schoolyard
friends, deeper, his cancer
after years of remission
spreading, his proposed
treatment plan. I promise
to check in regularly, tell
him to call if he needs
anything. Home, an email
is waiting, another friend,
recently moved to Richmond
a prostrate cancer diagnosis,
further testing needed. I call
him and every part of me
wants to live a little longer,
hell why not win a prize,
become the final survivor.
Tony Gloeggler is a life-long resident of NYC who managed group homes for the mentally challenged for over 40 years. His poems have appeared in Rattle, New Ohio Review, Chiron Review, Nerve Cowboy, Trailer Park Quarterly, One Art. His most recent collection, What Kind Of Man with NYQ Books, was a finalist for the 2021 Paterson Poetry Prize and Here on Earth is forthcoming on NYQ Books.
