poem of the day 01.20.11

space invaders

they come into the bar

a young asian man
and a brunette woman

the whole place gets quiet

mitch, the racist, stops commenting
on the mexicans and asians in bay ridge
and stands there against the bar
stirring his vodka and orange juice

phil stops complaining
about the urinal
that hasn’t worked in over two years

we all stop and look at these aliens
these space invaders

they are a young couple
my wife thinks it’s their first date

they order guinness
and even though there are seats at the bar
they sit against the wall

away from all of us

soon we go back to talking

mitch about the arabs
phil about the urinal
and how good the pizza is next door

my wife and i talk about poetry
and how b.j. hasn’t been back
in this joint since 2010 turned over into 2011

the young couple talk too
we catch snippets
stuff about their lives and jobs
their hobbies and movies

people who are foreign to each other
always talk about the movies

my wife looks back at the couple
then turns to me and says

remember when we were new to this bar

yes, i say

then we sit there listening
to the chatter of a sunday afternoon

the roar of the game

the urinal’s broken handle

the problems with the blacks
up on seventy-third street

we listen to the color of our lives

then the young brunette
asks the young asian if
he wants another round
or if he wants to go somewhere else

they opt to leave

looking around, i know that they’ll
never come back

together or alone

they grab their coats at the same time
my wife and i do

only we beat them to the door

opening it into a rich sunshine
the reflects an angelic white
off of the dirty snow

going home, she and i
beholden to no one
but each other.