Bridge Player’s Saturday
by Tobi Alfier

Lemonade ice cubes and a four-pour
of gin, sprig of mint in a rocks glass—
the fifties housewives’ mojito.

Maisie shelled peas on the porch,
could tell by the bridge ladies’ laughter
when it was time for refills.

It was a volume thing, shrill hyenas
that drove her dad to the pier,
a custom rod and two coolers…

fish in, Budweiser guzzled. She’ll help later
when neither of them could
handle a sharp knife for gutting.

Dear Lord, she loved them both
like cats under the birdbath
but stab her now if this would be her life.

A wholesome small-town Saturday noon.
Maisie’s highlight the mail delivery—
catalogs, college applications,

and fancy ice cube trays in coded
colors to match every reason
in the world to get out of this place.

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