CATHERINE ARRA - GOD'S WAITING ROOM

Catherine Arra is a native of the Hudson Valley in upstate New York where she lives with wildlife and changing seasons until winter when she migrates to Florida’s Space Coast to commune with alligators, palms trees, and the occasional rocket. She is the author of three chapbooks, most recently, Tales of Intrigue & Plumage (FutureCycle Press, 2017). A former English and writing teacher, Arra now teaches part time and facilitates a local writers’ group. Find her at www.catherinearra.com

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God’s Waiting Room
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​When I retire and move to Florida
I’m going to float on two neon pool tubes, visor in place
towel securely clipped to lounge.
 
I’ll say,
 
Hey, whatta ‘bout those poor slobs up there in New York
& Jersey buried up to their asses, 4 degrees--
Geez almighty, do we have the life or what?
 
I’m going to set the weather app
to Chicago, Detroit, Buffalo. Ha!
 
I’m going to sniff out early bird specials
and say,
 
Whatta meal, I have to tell ya. That cup of soup, I mean
more like a bowl
or you can get a nice salad, always fresh an’
a choice of entrée with three sides, not the usual two
dessert, coffee . . .
oh an’ yeah, a drink, yeah, a real bar drink
an’ all for 9.99. 
You believe it? Was outta this world let me tell ya
an’ I’m tellin’ ya, that steak, it just melted in my mouth
an’ the wife
she had the tilapia—nice an’ fresh she said, grilled just so
not all dried out.
 
When I retire and move to Florida
I’m going to have it my way.
 
Whatta life I’m tellin’ ya
Worked 40 stinkin’ years for this.
 
Nah, an’ I ain’t gonna notice your little baby lizard
sunnin’ on the terrace
an’ I didn’t feel bad when I took off the end of its tail--
I mean, what the hell—it was an accident.
 
An’ I don’t give a frig about that bird noise, oh excuse me . . . songs.
Just close the damn door.
Whatta ya always talkin’ at me about the sun risin’ an’ fallin’
makin’ the edges of livin’ an dyin’?
For Chrissake, go write a poem or somethin’.
 
Me, I’ll just wait here for the old reaper, enjoyin’ myself
an’ when the bastard shows up, I ain’t gonna  give him
the right time of day neither.