retired
pork chops, said my father, I love pork chops! and I watched him slide the grease into his mouth.
pancakes, he said, pancakes with syrup, butter and bacon! I watched his lips heavy wetted with all that.
coffee, he said, I like coffee so hot it burns my throat! sometimes it was too hot and he spit it out across the table.
mashed potatoes and gravy, he said, I love mashed potatoes and gravy! he jowled that in, his cheeks puffed as if he had the mumps.
chili and beans, he said, I love chili and beans! and he gulped it down and farted for hours loudly, grinning after each fart.
strawberry shortcake, he said, with vanilla ice cream, that’s the way to end a meal!
he always talked about retirement, about what he was going to do when he retired.
when he wasn’t talking about food he talked on and on about retirement.
he never made it to retirement, he died one day while standing at the sink filling a glass of water.
he straightened like he’d been shot. the glass fell from his hand and he dropped backwards landing flat his necktie slipping to the left.
afterwards people said they couldn’t believe it. he looked great. distinguished white sideburns, pack of smokes in his shirt pocket, always cracking jokes, maybe a little loud and maybe with a bit of bad temper
but all in all a seemingly sound individual never missing a day of work.
