At Ruby Tuesday’s
(A Poem for National Poetry Month)
At Ruby Tuesday’s
The handle on the exterior door is worn
Of its bronze coating,
The patina rubbed away
By countless hands
Over the years.
I am reminded of Lincoln’s nose
Of his statue at his tomb.
Tourists rub it for good luck.
It’s too late to give Lincoln
Any kind of luck at all,
Much less good
And I can’t think of the two rubbings
Together,
The one from people in search of food
And the other from people in search of
Any kind of luck at all.
Dan Verner
April 1, 2019
Biscuit City 