—poetry by Wayne F. Burke

I should have stayed
in the bar
drinking beer
until I fell off the stool
and died
on the floor
like Baldy Sherman
or else died out back
in a Room For Rent
like Buzzy
my Uncle's buddy
an ex-Green Beret
who left
but a carcass;
he came to the house one
Christmas day
and he and my Uncle
spent all afternoon
drinking beer
and smoking cigarettes
in the sun parlor
while trying to put together an electric train
like them
never got on track.

Wayne Burke's work has appeared in FORGE, miller's pond, and Northeast Corridor. He was poet-of-the-month in Bareback, 7-13.