Glen and Tom

by Robert VanderMolen

Whatever hotel or town it was
He stood on a balcony with a drink
After a long day driving in the heat

The side of his truck was missing paint
From a fire near Seney but that was his job,
Lumber management, northern division

Years later, perched in a bar in Oregon
I remember his grey slacks,
Pockets dribbling cash from Hollywood,
One of the tallest women I’d ever met
Returning to him from the restroom

It was around that time
He was also considering a run for a seat
On the Chippewa County board of supervisors,
Just to stay cheerful

I’ve always admired Teddy Roosevelt
He told me in an earnest voice,
Relighting his cigar,
Talking to me like I was a smalltown reporter . . .

Then added, matteroffactly,
You must be divorced again