Neon signs across Ohio

You call me and I can tell you're sad and calm
your tone tired, the you I like
like your brother, the nicest one
and I can hear your eyes, almost
that far away look when you won't look at me
for a good reason, a feeling

Your drive back was fine
You stopped on the way at a wing joint
Cindy wanted boneless wings, expected them
Boneless wings at a wing place

I am reminded of the way you looked the other night
when she said, “you'd think there'd be white zinfindel,
I mean, isn't that the most common white wine?”
at a place with 100 craft beers and vegetarian gravy
and a college-educated waitress with a benign accent
who said the chardonnary was
very nice.
Well, do they have Bud? was all you said to Cindy, and sucked your beer
not looking at her

So I can see you taking a swig of your 2 dollar pint of Coors Light
at the wing joint, the meager foam beading
on the plastic cup in the red or yellow dark light
the vinyl booth sticking to the backs of your legs
that gnarled edge digging into them
They don't make boneless chickens, you say to her
It's a wing joint, and not looking at her -
because of a good reason.  Not the same reason
but another feeling, all the same

Grampy's visit was fine
His new girlfriend was nice
accidentally flooded the downstairs bathroom
when she showered upstairs but - -
and Cindy wouldn't let you finish, girlfriend might get
embarrased! and I knew
they had been together, then
Like a couple of teenagers, you said
the whole damn week.

work is tough, you'll admit it
those bozos want more and more from the team
and you don't even understand what they want
so I have to divert myself, you say
the tractor needs a new radiator because you hit a fence
they don't make brass radiators anymore.
and the washing machine makes a noise like
rattling marbles which the Maytag man will fix
or else, you'll buy a new one.

I picture you driving, lit by unnatural lights
neon signs across Ohio
only the limp carton of half-and-half on the seat next to you
sticking with its own sweat to the sandcolored WalMart bag
your used cadillac smelling its own retired leather
through the climate control