Monday Musings - Don’t Bother to Knock

November 21, 2016

Hard rain pummels panes of glass while wet rings take

residence where our drinks once bled out


onto the hardwood bar while we waited for the next

2:19 out of each other’s minds. For good.


Behind the counter, a Marilyn Monroe nibbles on her 

pencil, then jots down some digits and  


a smiley face near the namesake of this restaurant 

at the end of our worlds. If there were a


Baby Grand in this joint, it would have quit for lack of 

a piano man that can keep her amused amidst 


dead conversations in slang only drunks and dead 

movie stars can muster any meaning out of. 


After the damage is done, there’s seldom a smile, and

the only digits are those ball and chained to


the cost of a steak and eggs special, plus tax, no tip, and

jukeboxes all out of order. I fumble in 5¢


just to shuffle through the squeaky tabs; I marvel to see 

Springsteen’s Born to Run still making the cut. 


That’s how you know you’re in Jersey, I wince toward the 

vacant swivel stool beside me, and by the time 


the chairs are stacked, someone else foots my bill. Again.

Y’think the rain’s gawna stop anytime soon? asks


Ms. Monroe, apron tossed, legs crossed. She dims the 

lights. Somewhere, a piano man cries for his Baby.


Trigonis 7/5/12



Every Monday, GJC will be sharing a poem from John T. Trigonis, a local JC Heights resident, poet, writer, and coffee aficionado, in our Monday Musings.

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