Sitting in a booth in Irv’s Mountain View Café,
Columbia Falls, Montana, 1959,
I was faced with choices:
food, drink & song, each for a price,
a cola, burger, fries, and the jukebox,
a high caloric intake for the gut & ear.
A quarter for doo wop or good old rock & roll
the coin-slot-disc-drop-gear-whirr-vibrating
needle woke Johnny Mathis’ velvet voice
from the grooved grave of recorded sleep.
I choose, everyone in Irv’s listens.
Songs of resurrection filled the room
and Chances Are
I fell into carbonated effervescent love
with our waitress, Irv’s daughter, Mary Sue.
1981