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.