The nor’easter beyond the windows of Wally’s Cafe
gains strength, obscures the boarded rowhouses, swirls
about the single streetlamp. LeRoy unfurls
a Harvard scarf and stamps: another Tanqueray
and tonic water! Wipes snow from his coat and curls
around the drink. Up front the jazzers play
a tangled bebop chart, he pushes away
from the bar to cut a step and shout, the girls
return to their chatter, laughter, arpeggios flurry
from a tenor sax, he’s jostled, stumbles- worry
in the unstable dance, the dark room, the wind outside.
He studies the floor, the patterns of frozen slurry:
I’ve just slipped over into another category.
No matter where I step, I’m gonna slide.
© philip kimball 2009
first published in COAL CITY REVIEW #20, Lawrence, Kansas, 2005.