DUFFY'S PUB

Photo by S. Auberle

DUFFY'S PUB

not near as interesting as it sounds

like it should be set on a green, misty hill

in Ireland--County Clare, perhaps

instead it's a tiny bar in the Comfort Inn

Milwaukee, Wisconsin in a blizzard

but it is comfortable, especially when

you look outside and inside

these people may become very familiar to me

over the next hours-- we gather round the fireplace

drink coffee, read the newspaper, fret

over what--that we're warm and comfortable

and drinking coffee when over fifty people

have died in the southern end of this storm

when Jim, who I do not know, other than

from conversation at the next table is gone too

and his wake was supposed to be today

one of those where the place is overflowing and

Holy Christ, he's younger than me--brain tumor

and he was such an honest guy--why you could trust him

with anything and his wife, she made the best

cinnamon rolls I've ever tasted

and my fortune cookie from last night's Chinese

says you will travel far and wide

but not today and the TV is saying

there's a nine mile stretch in Kentucky

where every home is flattened...