We spent our state tax refund
on an inflatable hot tub,
a bottle of peach wine
and a couple filets of Alaskan salmon.
Also— a bundle of asparagus
I picked up at a carport farm stand.
Currently, we’re soaking
in low-class luxury, our investments
already paying dividends.
But most moments feel like scrambling
to hold on to singles
in one of those boardwalk
money-blowing machines;
grab what you can
before your time is up.
On the Atlantic City Expressway,
a billboard continues
to advertise a Dionne Warwick concert
months after the last the last notes
of “Walk on By”
strolled down the strip
and this stagnation
has WAYV 95.1 taking calls:
some commuters
expressing annoyance at the lack
of change in scenery
and others expressing concern
for the financial health
of the Golden Nugget Casino.
The station gets “back to the music”
with “Do You Know
the Way to San Jose?”
which drifts across the lawn
as the turbo air jets kick on.
We clink plastic wine glasses,
relish our current status
like the protected osprey couple
nuzzled in their protected nest
atop the Dionne Warwick billboard.
Yes, we ease on the brakes
to that hour when a story
becomes a yarn and the sun rises
because it is gradually pulled
by a golden charioteer, across humble sky.
John Wojtowicz grew up working on his family’s azalea and rhododendron nursery and still lives in the backwoods of what Ginsberg dubbed “Nowhere Zen New Jersey.” Currently, he teaches social work at Stockton University. Recent publications are included in Rattle, New Ohio Review, Split Rock Review, West Trade Review, and The Ekphrastic Review. He is the author of the chapbook, Roadside Attractions: a Poetic Guide to American Oddities. Find out more at: www.johnwojtowicz.com.