calling hours for butchie pennock

These gatherings had become somewhat regular,
A short drive for most involved,
Having stayed behind once the mill closed
(There were the odd out-of-state license plates,
Mostly Florida and the Carolinas,
The vehicles' occupants sporting incongruous tans,
And they were treated with a certain reserve,
As if they had breached some faith,
Had broken some covenant)
And they were invariably in the morning,
Leading more than one wag to note
Well, at least we're all on first shift now.
And the talk outside of Wiegert's,
Shambling old funeral home a little more care-worn
With each generation of the family it fell to,
Turned to such things as Butchie's unusual good luck,
How he'd remained more or less unscathed by the mill,
Losing only the tip of a pinkie finger in a roller
(It was said that, back before the dining room
At the Montmorenci House
Had been converted into a tattoo studio,
You always shook hands with the left and right
To ensure a full set of ten fingers in the grip.)
And how he had, even though he was among
The most reticent of men, been a regular
At the retiree luncheons at the diner up in Wilcox
(The timing of such events subject to certain vagaries
As an infrequent February snow storm
Or the less uncommon changes in ownership)
And how he once explained his presence,
And then only when pressed,
By quietly noting Well, I figger my will-be's
To be a solitary thing, and the only folks
I share my used-ta-be's is all of you good people.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

sometimes a work group becomes a society...a very close knit, closed society...
What happens here, stays here.
Like Butchie's comment....
"Used to be's are only shared with you folks"
what will be i will keep to myself.
really good story poem...
and so many can relate....to an old job, retiring or having the company shut down...
so much of that these days with the pandemic.
where have you been, W.k.?
You have been missed here at the Cafe.
j.

[W.k.kortas]

Kind of you to say so, Jacob.

[Delmar Cooper]

Saw your name then got called away. Pissed me off to walk away from the screen, it's a phantom won't be there when I get back, just imagined I saw the name etc. etc. typical senior moment petit mal cluster of thoughts.
Then you were still here. Thanks, you were missed. Campbell will wet his pants.

Oh your poem? The sine qua non, nonpareil, defining last word on nostalgia. I like it for the same reason I like bitter sweet chocolate. See you are flogging a book. Splendid, I'll sell a few chickens and buy one. Just between the two of us do the aliens still do those anal probes?

[W.k.kortas]

Gwaggfor of Planet Jargfanon has asked me not to comment.

[Delmar Cooper]

Gwaggfor was always tight lipped, no pun intended.