Two Poems by Merridawn Duckler

I’d woken up happy, not reasonably happy but deliriously so, nationally so, happy as if I’d
walked into a diner at the end of a long road, with ruffled red/white calico curtains and lightly
squeaking neon, nodding to a few grizzled regulars, brave face toward the mirror hung over long
wooden bar, nicked with prayers in the form of lottery combinations, behind the scenes some
dude cooking for the love of God, stirring, patting, not rushed, but measured as a salt lick and the
bartender just so beautiful and not at all inclined to deny you anything, as I slow stroll over to the
jukebox sitting right there, yea high, at the level of the heart of a child, in boots of well-tooled
leather and a booty looking fine as a dream everyone dreams at the same time, and I have no idea
how I ended up in this grocery with greeters who slap a big target on your back, overhead public
address screaming can someone clean up the soul dancing in aisle two, they are a hazard.