Todd Cirillo

Cemetery Tour
 

Here we are
standing hand in hand,
on the grounds of the old Metairie race track,
now an oval-shaped cemetery,
under outstretched live oaks
draped in Spanish moss,
crafted tombs and weeping angels,
in the midday summer heat
of New Orleans—
200 years of death,
and the two of us 
never feeling
so alive.

Today’s Special
 
The couple at the table
stares out in opposite directions
holding different thoughts
or maybe the same thought
waiting on their giant lunch combo
of fried chicken, sweet potato fries, fried pickles
with a cup of gumbo
which arrive from a burnt waitress,
decades in this place
thick with grease fire dreams
and over-easy disappointments.
The smells of the South
follow from the kitchen to table.
The plate is overflowing
as each grab a piece 
and eat.
They stare silently
out the window,
down the road
while everything
right in front of them
disappears
with each bite.