My first job was at Huck Finn’s—
a restaurant, motel, RV park,
ballroom, cot-for-the-night, and more
in Orihula,
a little unincorporated town
on the Wolf River.
I rode bike to work
and back at night.
On moonlit, starry nights
I’d enjoy a casual pace
listening to my headphones.
On pitch black
cloudy, moonless nights,
sometimes with rain,
I rode hard and fast
with fear of loose dogs,
stray deer, and drunk drivers
leaving the bars.
Three miles each way.
Miles was head chef.
His wife Carol was head server.
George was head bartender.
His wife Nancy was hostess;
she called townsfolk Orihuligans.
I called her Myrtle
because of a Myrtle Beach T-shirt
she often wore.
New friends were made —work friends.
We ate together,
mimicked In Living Color’s Jim Carrey together,
we played pool together.
Summer’s end
meant the beginning of high school.
