Short-order Cook

Jim Daniels (b. 1956)

An average joe comes in
and orders thirty cheeseburgers and thirty fries.

I wait for him to pay before I start cooking.
He pays.
He ain't no average joe.


The grill is just big enough for ten rows of three.
I slap the burgers down
throw two buckets of fries in the deep frier
and they pop pop spit spit . . .
pss . . .

The counter girls laugh.
I concentrate.
It is the crucial point—
they are ready for the cheese:
my fingers shake as I tear off slices
toss them on the burgers/fries done/dump/
refill buckets/burgers ready/flip into buns/
beat that melting cheese/wrap burgers in plastic/
into paper bags/fries done/dump/fill thirty bags/
bring them to the counter/wipe sweat on sleeve
and smile at the counter girls.
I puff my chest out and bellow:
"Thirty cheeseburgers, thirty fries!"
They look at me funny.
I grab a handful of ice, toss it in my mouth
do a little dance and walk back to the grill.
Pressure, responsibility, success,
thirty cheeseburgers, thirty fries.

The River of Life

Thomas Campbell (1174-1844)

The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages:
A day of childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.

The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.

But as the care-worn cheeks grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, which measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?

When joys have lost their bloom and breath
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death,
Feel we it's tide more rapid?

It may seem strange—yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone
And left our bosoms bleeding?

Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.

For My Contemporaries

J.V. Cunningham (1911-1985)

How time reverses
The proud in heart!
I now make verses
who aimed at art.

But I sleep well.
Ambitious boys
Whose big lines swell
With spiritual noise,

Despise me not!
And be not quesy
To praise somewhat:
Verse is not easy.

But rage who will.
Time that procured me
Good sense and skill
Of madness cured me.

After the Philharmonic

James Camp (b. 1923)

Two paths diverged in a well-known park,
One well-let, the other—dark.
And since I did not wish to die,
I took the one more travelled by.

Dear Mom

Joan Nielson (2007)

We dont understand why your last days on earth
Must be filled with such pain and diminished self worth.
You've worked many years to achieve all that's good.
Now you feel in confinement and misunderstood.
Your mind tends to wander, your eyesight is bad.
You long for the family and friends you once had.
You try to be cheerful, yet can't help but cry.
You hate how you're living and wish you could die.
We hope that our actions convey that we care.
If you need us to help you, please know we'll be there.
We often feel helpless but we'll do our best
To share in your sorrow and comfort your rest.
We love all the stories we've heard as you've told
Of your life and your family and good days of old.
Don't think you're a burden for we can attest
That by caring for you it's been us that's been blessed.
We love you but know that your work here is done
And it's time to return to your husband and son.

Fabliau of Florida

Wallace Stevens (1923)

Barque of phosphor
On the palmy beach,

Move outward into heaven,
Into the alabasters
And night blues.

Foam and cloud are one.
Sultry moon-monsters
Are dissolving.

Fill your black hull
With white moonlight.

There will never be an end
To this droning of the surf.

Programming Down on the Farm

Michael Spence (1985)

As all those with computer know,
Input-output is called I/O.
But farmers using these machines
See special letters on their screens.
So when they list a chicken fence
To "Egg Insurance and Expense,"
Into what file does it go?
Of course to EIE I/O.