Napo 20

Yesterday's prompt was to use spoken word, actual speech, in a poem. I went to Subway yesterday and was really delighted in the way the two "sandwich artists" spoke to one another. They were excited about the Subway actually being closed on Easter. I want to revisit this idea. At the end of this poem, I'm playing with the idea of the speaker as a contemporary Mary Magdalene.

Overheard at Subway

Don’t bake no more bread, girl.

Tomorrow’s Easter and we closed.

We got to throw

All that bread out

And yeah, I know it feels like sin

but the old’s gotta go,

make room for the new.

Ain’t nobody want

Stale bread sandwiches

After their Easter hangovers,

Know what I’m saying?

Course you do. Shit.

It's spring and outside,

I feel like the whole world

blooming again. My backyard's

done full of myrtles blooming,

and bees too, if you'd believe it.

Here in the middle of Houston.

You imagine that? Bees. Shit.

What you got planned tomorrow?

I feel like it's a gift, you know?

A whole day where you

And I and all the world

Don’t got to make

no sandwiches

For these hungry men

that come in on their lunch breaks,

With they dirty hands

And jumpsuits and boots

Tracking the muck

Of that refinery

All over my clean floors.

You'd think they'd wash

they hands before eating,

but I guess they don't got time.

Have a little faith, girl.

You go and enjoy your Easter Sunday

And get good and drunk if you want to.

I’ll come in bright

and early Monday morning,

to this empty store,

fire up that oven

and make sure the bread

got time to rise

for coming the lunch rush.