not getting served at the subway inn, poetry by John Grochalski

not getting served at the subway inn

ten minutes before this

we were still in the hospital room

watching my mother-in-law wrestle

with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich

just something, the nurse told her

to get in her stomach to take away the nausea from chemo

we were dressed like hazmat techs

in gloves and smocks and something to cover our mouths

the steelers were losing to the jets

two minutes left in the game and my wife shut the tv off

so her mother could get some sleep

but that was all right

the football gods will always live to see another day

and besides i stopped watching the NFL almost two years ago

i have ceased tying my fate to that of any sports team

only here in the subway inn they have televisions all over

playing games in between commercials

for SUVS, luxury cars or joining the marines

the few people in here are shouting

some drunk chick keeps screaming

pass-interference!

pass-interference!

but i don’t know at which screen

and though it may seem sexist

i’ve always held a special hatred for the female football fan

my wife and i aren’t getting served in the place

we probably need a drink

more than any two people in manhattan this sunday afternoon

only the bartender is gone

or he’s one of the people sitting at the bar

watching football and waiting us out

most likely he’s changing a keg or taking a shit

the bar has signs hanging

asking people to help save it from

twirling moustache landlords

and the inevitable new york city rent hike

you can tweet or twit or join facebook to spread the word

at the end there’s a banner proclaiming the bar saved

the same legendary subway inn

only now it’s moving four avenues away

where the rent hikes will take another ten years

to make their way east

and they’ll have to do this shit all over again

i consider the subway inn and its change in venue

how it really won’t be the same

no matter what these people fool themselves into believing

we change and morph and never realize it

because we’re too hung up just trying to live

like my mother-in-law in her hospital bed

telling us that she suddenly feels like an old person

or how i’m forty and now often times

i’m one of the older guys in the bar

wondering where in the hell my drink is

or where the tiredness and all this gray hair came from

John Grochalski is the author of The Noose Doesn’t Get Any Looser After You Punch Out (Six Gallery Press 2008), Glass City (Low Ghost Press, 2010), In The Year of Everything Dying (Camel Saloon, 2012), Starting with the Last Name Grochalski (Coleridge Street Books, 2014), and the novel, The Librarian (Six Gallery Press 2013). Grochalski currently lives in Brooklyn, New York, where he constantly worries about the high cost of everything.