~HEATHER MARING~

TACO BELL, HANNIBAL, MISSOURI

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The spotted squares of ceiling tile 
suggest constellations, falling 
from a mechanic's hand, slowly, 
too slowly for the eye to see, 
toward watery rings on the glittering 
tables.  Soda fountains burble 
like sulfur gardens in Yosemite. 
Beyond the plate-glass, cars fill up 
their spaces.  A wren hops 
on the sidewalk and somebody's 
honking his horn.  You've been gone, 
what, two minutes?  I hate waiting 
like this.  A better mind 
would find real beauty here 
in something small—in the line 
of people scanning the day-glo 
board, some wearing scuffed 
sneakers, others polished loafers, 
or purple flats, their feet 
angled like the hands of a clock, 
telling their own versions of time.
 
 

© by Heather Maring