thatched roof like the one on Stack's garage and inside
six stools covered in split red plastic, five booths, a cement
floor (I'm being honest about its frailties) and an oil heater
the kids gathered around drinking their cocoa, no I didn't

offer marshmallows, no I did not make my own pies,
simple fare, chili, burgers, grilled cheese, coffee, real
cream, the men liked it here because it wasn't home
and they liked me because I wasn't their wife, my own

husband at the Uptown drinking his case of beer a day
with George Stack and Charlie, yes I was bony but I had
a nice smile and that place wasn't called Tom's or
Marge and Tom's it was Marge's, such as it was