Ode To The Self-Service Gas Pump

You never judge me.
Cash or credit?
Whichever makes me happy.
And the card I insert?
The magnetic strip can face either way.
Very thoughtful.

You are unfailingly polite.
Is this a debit card?
Will I pay inside or outside?
Do I want a car wash today?
You’re always happy with my choice.

We have a well-rehearsed banter.
Lift the handle and make your selection.
Well, duh.
Do I want a receipt,
unlike the last 300 times I filled up?
What a kidder.

And that sunny disposition.
You give me my fuel
Without a lecture on emissions
or the environment.
Even in record-setting heat.

You don’t care where I’ve been
or where I’m going.
No matter where I am
you are always nearby when I need you.
What a friend.

What’s For Dinner, Dad?

I want to spiritually nourish you,
teaching you to feed on empathy,
embrace the foibles of others
and work to make the world
a better place.
Cook you up an altruistic outlook
so you will want to always
do the right thing,
live by the Golden Rule,
be a good example to your children,
and contribute to society
in a loving and forgiving way
that will make all of us better.

We also have meatloaf.

————

Joseph Moorman is a retired civil servant living in upstate New York. A faceless bureaucrat no longer (see photo) he finally has the time to listen for the right words. His work has appeared in The Lyric, Light, and The Comstock Review.