Leo’s Gig

embarked on this Mississippi River ship

gazing overboard

considering the uncertain turbulence,

the cook stays busy lighting the ovens

baking what he believes

is the necessary warm up to pleasure pastures.

inside this obstinate vessel

enigmatic stainglass of extreme inflections,

this kitchen soldier

first summons his strength

then distances from the close proximity of

green baby bean existence, and

coquettish sweet smiles

sealed up inside watchful alleyway lockers out back.

a solitary figure filleting a sole in a flurry

pauses to peek through the occasional swinging canteen door,

noticing another party about to be organized at the clack of cleaving,

observing terrific sparks curving around stove corners,

observing a dog fight waiters group embroiled behind tables and barstools

all tangled up from their yelping tongues

just waiting their shift out in this bleak Fahrenheit wind.

there is a park down Laclede Avenue built by a hero.

his cause was just:

saving certain insects

crawling and winged

from going extinct.

now his statue is half gnawed away

standing solitarily

below a rusty St. Louis archway lamppost.

thus our chef’s work has at last truly begun,

as Leo is witness to the armies

retreating forward

their backs to better kitchens.

St. Louis

1974