Breakfast at Denny’s in Pasadena by Mary Gomez Parham
This is from the Texas Poetry Calendar 2008. I was lucky enough to hear the author read it, which was great! It’s definitely best read aloud.
Breakfast at Denny’s in Pasadena
By Mary Gomez Parham
I’m at Denny’s and I’ve just ordered
the Senior French Slam, my maiden Slam:
I’m now 55 and legal.
But in this hot-flash-hot room,
I’m the bride, the kindergartner on her first day of school.
My fellow diners think I’m young
on my first day of being old at Denny’s.
Old guys ogle me,
and the older old women—the ones
who’ve stopped considering face-lifts—
glance sideways at my less droopy turkey wattles,
my just-dyed hair with its perky perm
and my last-all-day lipstick and dieting hips.
I am driven to push my Slam aside and clamber
up onto my table and shout:
Good morning!
I’m announcing today to you all
that I’m still keeping up this lawn, by God!
I’ll never let moss grow on me, or weeds,
like that gray woman plunging into pancakes at table 3.
When I have my fatal coronary,
I want to stumble over in high-heeled boots.
As I sink to the floor, I’ll regret dirtying
my red velvet jeans, dry-clean-only.
So don’t just sit there and stare, mouths
agape, syrupy forks poised in mid-air.
Rather, raise your coffee cups in a toast, for
I do solemnly swear this morning at Denny’s in Pasadena:
I shall not go gentle or unmade-up into that good night.
