Marriage Preposition

Alan Berecka

November 26, 2023

Fresh out of college, working for Ma Bell,

I spent too much time in Luke’s Outhouse

on Harry Hines on the seedy side of Dallas,

where I washed away too many brain cells

one frosted beer at a time, trying to forget

the woman who I once thought was mine,

trying not to remember the life I once

imagined as I fed the old jukebox

stuffed with country western classics

fistful of quarters to listen to Hank

whine about cold, cold hearts, paced

the floor with Ernest, fell to pieces

with Patsy, wished the world away

with Eddy, and agreed with Gentleman

Jim that the man now with her

should go, even if Luke would never

have turned his jukebox way down low.

That sad sack of kid, who dined

on Luke’s free popcorn while drowning

in self-pity, getting plastered night

after night, couldn’t imagine that one day

he’d meet the right woman and they

would learn to love each other deeply

and in doing so he’d learn how wrong

great songs can be for she would never

be his, and she would never be married

to him, rather they would remain married

with each other for four decades and counting,

and he’d come to understand that only misery

can be found in the attempt to possess anyone.

Alan Berecka is a retired librarian, who lives in Sinton, Texas, with his congenial wife Alice and ornery Belgian Shepherd Ophelia. His sixth full collection, Atlas Sighs: Selected and New Poem is forthcoming from Turning Plow Press. From 2017-2019, he served as the first poet laureate of Corpus Christi.