Monday Nights in Middle Age
My wife covers the brown rice on the stove,
grabs her purse from the kitchen table
and blows me a kiss on her way out the door.
“Dinner is ready for you,” she calls to me
over her shoulder. “I’m going to bingo.”
I’m sinking into the couch like the cushions
are made of quicksand, watching horror flicks
and waiting for the edible I just ate to kick in.
When I was younger and lived in Las Vegas,
I made it a point to get shit-faced on Mondays,
staying up until three a.m. writing poems,
believing I was the next Charles Bukowski.
Now I’m lounging in the living room of my home,
sipping seltzer water and rubbing the dog’s belly
while my wife plays music bingo at a bar near
the house that we own in a quiet neighborhood
with green lawns and shiny SUVs in the driveways,
while somewhere a younger man writes a poem.
Nathan Graziano lives with his wife in Manchester, New Hampshire. He is the author of ten books of poetry and fiction, and a columnist for Manchester Ink Link. His most recent short story collection, A Better Loser, is available from Roadside Press. For more information, visit his website: www.nathangraziano.com.
