The Take-out Menus in the Lobby

Tryon & 3rd Street (Marriott)

by Alan Michael Parker

The take-out menus in the lobby are so sleepy,
they are so sore, they have swum oceans,

they have biked cross-town,
they are so surprised, what are they doing here,

what is this place, where are they now.
Sprawled upon the marble, a village,

a diaspora of take-out menus in the lobby
forgotten by the Super in the military light.

When the doors spin and the wind blows in,
the take-out menus in the lobby lift and settle

softly as a sigh, astonished as the moon.
In the fall, swept up. In the winter,

the take-out menus in the lobby
huddle together near the steam,

the pipes banging like a cancer.
In the spring, mud in the gutter

and then jonquils on the sill;
in the summer, curled tight as a whisper.

There go the strollers and the ambulances;
here come the strollers and the ambulances.

There go the strollers and the ambulances;
here come the strollers and the ambulances.

The take-out menus in the lobby
live too many lives at once,

they are so patient, they are so tired,
they are well acquainted with frailty.

There go the strollers and the ambulances.
Here come the strollers and the ambulances.


from Long Division (Tupelo Press, 2012)

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