From The Cool Room

Written
2011

 From The Cool Room

 

       I catch my breath in the cool room

              where the temperature is 79

              instead of the 102 outside.

 

       The picture window frames the crowd

              of friends and family

              seated still in a conversation circle.

 

       My vacated seat silent

              as the conversations continue

              with no glances to the empty chair.

 

       A moment ago I sat in that seat

             uncomfortably hot,                     

             straining to hear

              conversations about things unknown to me.

 

       No chance to get a word in

              even if I had anything

              I could contribute.

 

       If anyone noticed me leave

              there was no signal as

              at age 83 I have become invisible.

 

       I wondered of that status

              as I sat in front of my grill

              all day cooking, blocking traffic.

             

          Some walked by wondering about

                      going in front of me bumping the grill

                     or behind spilling the beer barrel.

 

               In the cool room, my index of past Fourths,

                     flashed shots of children, now adults

                     and older ones carrying added pounds.

 

              So ended my day in the sun,

                     a trip to the cool room and

                     the invisible do not have to clean up.

 

              And next year when the clans gather

                     and raise a glass to the old one

                     asserting that he is looking down on us,

                     be sure to check the cool room first.

 

Doug Minnis

July 10, 2011

 

                                   

                    

 

             

 

 

 

 

Notes
Then there comes the time when the party is really for a newer generation. I sat and marveled at this as I remembered when those adults out there were in the pool and my generation talked and drank beet. My Sister in Law, Sue, calls it the passing of the torch. next year will be different. I am going to sit in the shade and tell all my grandchildren and great grandchildren what it was like in the old days as the new chef sweats out the barbecue and is invisible also