Broncos – Umflop

Trying to rewind his life
to last Thursday to a time ten minutes before
he said something stupid to Lori
which got her mad at him,
Paul walked backwards through the neighborhood.

The neighborhood sidewalks
were old and uneven.
His first stumble and fall
took place in front of their cafe—
the place where they first met.

He banged his head on the concrete.
Several bystanders helped him up
and gave him walking suggestions.
The best one was if he insists on walking backward
not to have his hands in his pockets.

Paul walked backward into Sarti’s Bar
which was full of happy hour people
busy with happy hour drinking.
He bumped into a bus-woman clearing tables
and sent empties spinning across the floor.

The merriment of the bar flowed around him
like he was a stone moving through a stationary stream.
The metaphor was backward enough to tickle his fancy.
His laughter joined the merriment of the joint.
He took a barstool and ordered a pint.

With his back to the silent TV he cheered
when others cheered the Broncos football play.
Neil Young’s Heart of Gold played on the old jukebox.
Lori walked forward into Sarti’s.
Because he was not facing the television Paul saw her arrive.

Lori walked forward to the bar next to him
squeezed between two occupied barstools
and ordered a pint. He apologized.
She accepted the apology and commented
that Mary called her to get down here when he entered backwards.

A broken TV
receives and projects
only FOX Opinion
to rooms outfitted with
green La-Z-boy loungers
set on synthetic carpets
with cigarette ash burns.

The sound comes out
of stereo speakers
that flank the fickle flat screen.
The fake walnut casing
clashes with the Bronco orange
paint on the walls.

A dog sleeps at the far end of the room
alert enough in sleep to wake
if a single footstep touches the carpet
even if the steps lead away
into the kitchen and a half empty case
of beer cans.

Flies in the kitchen buzz
in slow death on a toxic strip
or in full life over food
not yet put away into the fridge
after canned supper
was emptied into a pan.

The only art on the walls
is provided by gun manufacturers
who sold this guy
on the idea of survival
after the apocalypse
of democracy
spread to all hands.

Tag: Broncos

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