Archive for the Scott Silsbe Category

How I Remember the Night Pavey Recited (from Memory) His Great Waffle House Poem in the Parking Lot of the Waffle House in (or Just Outside of) Blue Springs, MO by Scott Silsbe

Posted in Scott Silsbe with tags on April 26, 2017 by Scot

It was late, after a reading, and we poets were hungry.
We’d had milkshakes earlier for dinner, then beers or
shots or wine. And a lot of poetry. Perhaps too much.
And poetry can only satiate a certain kind of hunger.

And so the Waffle House sign hovering just off I-70
called out to us, was a sort of beacon in the night sky,
and our small caravan pulled off the freeway for grub.
We sat at the counter and the waitress was sweet to us.
I think we all ordered breakfast—several of us getting
their hashbrowns scattered, smothered, and / or covered.

It was clear the Waffle House chef took pride in his work.
Pavey covered the bill, saying that he knew it isn’t easy
being a poor poet on the road. He was right about that.
And one last gift, before we headed our separate ways,
was a poem, recited from memory, in the parking lot,
there, with the cop cars, the holy Waffle House sign
above us—a poem about a Waffle House, of course.

And I can’t recall how it went exactly, or even what
it was about, save that it mentioned a Waffle House.
But I think that I remember Pavey quoting scripture
in it, citing text some people believe came from some
great unseen, all-powerful, all-knowing force of life.
And for a moment, I believed in something greater
than myself, the spirit moved me, there in, or just
outside of, Blue Springs, MO in that Waffle House lot.
I don’t believe it was God I felt. I think it was poetry.

____________

 

Scott Silsbe was born in Detroit and now lives in Pittsburgh, where he writes and works as a bookseller.

Advertisements