in this time just
after after we finish
the meal the
moment when
the waitress stands
with our check smiles
as waitresses
smile distant
in a way that’s
heavy she’s
worked here for years the
restaurant we’ve
driven by without
stopping driven by
while going
to the harbor for an
evening boat
ride old-style
paddlewheel tracing
the lakeshore where
we met brought
together by
chance at the
railing leaning
into a black breeze the
paddlewheel passed
a restaurant set back
from the shore the
same restaurant where
we’ve just had
dinner a pleasant
meal a meal
eaten to music whispering
from speakers hidden
in the ceiling
tiles music
that isn’t really
music music created
specifically for
restaurants for
supermarkets for
department stores music
nobody actually
listens to notes
vaguely simulating
music how nice
it would be if this
restaurant had real
music if it had a dance
floor and I asked
you to dance if we got
caught up by an
internal rhythm caught up
to move into
one another move
as word follows
word to form a perfect
sentence even
though even
though though when
was the last time we
danced could it
truly be at our
wedding could it
be more than thirty
years ago decades
gone by and
no time since not
at any other
wedding wedding
of a friend of the child
of a friend and
wow and wow and
how can that
be how
can that be our
only dance a dance
not of now the now
of imitation music
and the waitress with
our check smiling
and resting on her
feet breathe
in breathe out breathe
and smile a nice
young woman still
smiling as she
leaves as she
gives us time
to prepare
a credit card and
decide on the amount
of a tip leaves through
the doors that separate
the dining area from
the kitchen leaves
to do whatever
it is that
waitresses do when
there aren’t any
tables needing
service when I almost
say to you how much she
reminds me of
Jenny Jenny named
after your aunt Jenny
the music lover real
music Jenny the
singer Jenny the
guitar player who
drove away one
morning who took the
car keys from the
hook by the front
door the hook I
installed so we’d
always know where
to find the
keys the morning
when I made pancakes
for breakfast the
morning before Jenny
would have gone back to
college pancakes
and we’d run out
of syrup I’ll go get
some what Jenny
said taking the keys
from the hook the
keys rattling
softly wrapping her
hair in the scarf
you made for
Christmas driving
off but not driving
back again and the
waitress who has the
same kind of
hair long and dark
and straight and
I come this close to
saying how the
waitress and Jenny
could be twins in that
moment that
moment when
you can tell the
words I almost
say that
moment when the
notes of an
imitation song
touch our hearts
with tiny claws
