May 19, 2022The Next Time
They gather when they hear LaRue’s horn
on 80 sound. Rose smiles, starts thinking
of what she’s going to say when he says,
“What’s new with you?” The ghosts come
one by one, two by two. They know that horn,
they know the whine of that truck, they know
what’s left behind. Enter the Iron Kettle
Restaurant at The American Plaza truck stop.
They take their places at the counter; Cokes
and coffee and cigarettes and the smell
of the grill and soft conversation
and sudden laughter and softer sighs mix
with all of them looking for LaRue’s truck
to pull in. They talk as if they’re living, as though
yesterday was yesterday and tomorrow is tomorrow.
Jim says, “It was real.” Steve replies, “It was a dream.”
An old argument to which Reverend Smith decides—
“It was both.” They all look outside: the empty pumps,
the wind-damaged signs, the cracked concrete, no
trucks, no cars, no people. Rose says “He’s not
coming” like saying the Rosary. First light is breaking,
they get up slowly and leave, mumbling, “Maybe next time.”
—from Ekphrastic Challenge
April 2022, Artist’s Choice
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Comment from the artist, Greg Clary:
from Ekphrastic Challenge