Punching in on the clock,
head straight to my area
and begin the process.
There was never an end
to the pile of dishes
that were heaved through
the tiny doorless window;
where things like very hot
or I need these quickly
never failed to escape
the waitresses' mouths.
After eating the salad bar provided dinner,
it was back to it;
usually having to wash my hands
in the same filth
that had been a work in progress
the entire evening.
The sink in which I hovered
gurgled its appreciation to me,
as I picked chunks of pasta sauce
or fish from its drain.
Those pans were never anything short
from sizzling
as I burned my hands into
numb mitts for grabbing.
The bleach I splattered
on the floors,
after an ungodly mess
from prep cooks
and the waitress who carelessly
flung food into the air,
not always catching her lips.
I dry heaved in the stench,
then nodded along to whatever
music happened to be on.
Co-workers always wanted
a handout for cigarettes,
but I needed every red cent
shelled to me,
how could they afford those
puffing pleasures?
He looks inward at himself,
to grip what was left of mind,
grasps his keys to the apartment
and heads out
to visit his wife.
they were always with one another;
they mentored and heard all of
the expressions the other had
to offer,
the thoughts hanging upon the years
giving substance to physicality
with a notion toward love,
all of the depths grazed.
Her room was the perfect dark
that evening. It made sense
that their destination lay together
in this enclosed motion,
driven to realize the things
most choose to keep quiet
for fear of what others might say.
This finality of rooms, circling them
with its cold embrace, the dual solitude
capacity a snapshot to be had;
showing one way traveling together
might end.
They speak of their last joys
and swallow the dark room together,
the last bit of light from her bedside lamp.
A nurse running to check the noise
finds the pistol,
the pooled floor glowing crimson
of fatal desires
to never leave each other.
Joseph says, "I reside in Burlington, Vermont. I run Scintillating Publications, a chapbook publishing press. J.J. Campbell's latest chap titled "Feel My Disease" will be due out shortly from my press. My own poems have appeared or will appear in Antipatico, Underground Voices, Zygote In My Coffee, Typewriter Voodoo, Remark, and many others. Interested poets can reach me at mustiis@aol.com for more details about upcoming chapbook releases and submission information."