~ Delta Poetry Review ~

Bruce Robinson

Transactional Analysis at Smith's

Would you do this for me please? Well,

not so much for me as for

the gentleman waiting in line

behind you, patiently, although

he has places he has to go,

colleagues he has to meet, as do I

in fact, pressing obligations

that really cannot wait. So, please

quit fumbling with your keys,

give the cashier what she's

asking for, note that she's being patient, too,

and let's get on with it. Time's resting with you.

Dark Night, with Squirrels

Open season for squirrels,

but we fight back: things that go thump in the road,

‘coons, cats, ‘possums, rabbits

scurry across or into my wheels—

“I don’t care if you don’t want me,

I’m yours.” It’s often this way, intake

and exhaust, the life ahead

left in our wake like particles

of desire, odometer of dust. Hey, swerve

into the passing lane

to miss a chicaning hare.

“I think you missed that one,”

says the deer in the shotgun seat;

“Yes, I think so,” I answer, “I heard no thump.”

Burmese Takeout Lands on North Interstate

They know this: I am not their god,

but rather an acolyte in a bistro,

not quite clear on who has plotted

what, nor at what table they might sit.

I can’t get that done, as much as I’ve flailed,

as much as I’ve tried to leave each line

plated, content with place but willing

even eager to move, to visit

other neighborhoods, view each new stability

with something approaching anticipation

or reluctance. Oh, my god, charity toward

all, even to the lines I’ve thought to erase,

life, as it plays with us and even as it

leaves us, leaves us these lines in their nesting place.