Maybe One More for the Road
by John Peter Beck
He dreamt only of bed
and her, long gone.
The scotch doubles,
the hour transformed
the road’s shoulder
into her shoulder, soft, cozy
in winter flannel, held
by a thin silk strap in summer,
hidden within the feather lightness
of the pillow, gesturing,
inviting him to move closer
and into its caress.
Ignoring the alarm,
he rolled over
and drifted back to sleep.
and her, long gone.
The scotch doubles,
the hour transformed
the road’s shoulder
into her shoulder, soft, cozy
in winter flannel, held
by a thin silk strap in summer,
hidden within the feather lightness
of the pillow, gesturing,
inviting him to move closer
and into its caress.
Ignoring the alarm,
he rolled over
and drifted back to sleep.
John Peter Beck, raised in a milltown on Lake Michigan in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, is a recently retired professor in the labor education program at Michigan State University, where he still co-directs a program that focuses on labor history and the culture of the workplace, Our Daily Work/Our Daily Lives. His poetry has been published in a number of journals, including The Seattle Review, Another Chicago Magazine, The Louisville Review, and Passages North, among others.