Donut Shop Jukebox

Each morning Willis plays checkers
with Eddie, the meth addict forty days clean
who says he can see the white fibers
running from square to square.
Inside it smells of coffee and sugar,
the Shirelles are singing "Baby It’s You"
and someone taps on the fogged up
window, late for work and looking
for jumper cables. In the fields
beyond where the ditch runs with water
the star thistle opens its stunned
furry leaves, dry needles jabbing the air.

I like the engine roaring to life, a savage
red dogwood shedding its flowers
over the sidewalk, over the fence.
I like your hat with its orange feather,
cheap as a melody, cheap as a wish.