“Just pour some water on his head,”
I said to the waitress.
“I can’t do that. What if
he wakes up and freaks out
all covered in water?”
“Well, I don’t think he will.”
He hadn’t moved
Since we’d been there.
He was old, old.
Old people might go to Denny’s
drunk and fall asleep,
but old, old people?
They almost never do that.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“He might be dead.
What do you think,
Is the man dead?”
“I think so,” she said
The ambulance came,
and they took him away.
He was wearing this shirt,
and it had a dead duck
in a dog’s mouth.
My dad dresses like that, too,
in Spalding tennis shoes,
and jean shorts.
Was he someone’s dad?
How will they find out
that their dead dead dad
came to Denny’s to die?
Or will they just call around
looking for their dad
when they get worried about
why he won’t answer the phone?
How far will they have to drive,
all teary-eyed (or not)
to see their dead dad’s
old, old dead body?
Will they ever
go to a Denny’s again?
I think that they will.
Everyone goes to a Denny’s
again,
except for him.