"best of" poem of the day 08.28.13

drinking with paul auster at rudy’s

in the bar in hell’s kitchen

we are tired from walking fifty blocks

and tired of the bullshit of manhattan

we have beers and just sit there

the television set is on to football

and the jukebox is playing rap

hell, i say

i remember when this bar

had a small tv on a chain stand

and only blues and latin music

came out of that thing

now they are selling

t-shirts for the bar too

that was only three years ago

then we drink again and have

another round

next to us he is wearing a raincoat

and he has an umbrella though it isn’t raining

he’s got the well-oiled black hair

and the big, lost writerly eyes

i think that’s paul auster,” i tell my wife

we’re drinking with paul auster

auster looks like the back

of one of his book jackets

as he sits with a paperback novel

a vodka and lime

and the penn state game on espn

he looks like everyone else

trying to put one over on life,

feigning at being something better

then he finishes his drink and gets up to leave

it is bright and blue in new york city

but paul auster twirls his umbrella

and makes up 9^th avenue anyway

are you sure that’s paul auster?

my wife asks

no, i say.

but why shouldn’t it be him.