dixie land

my father strung
his colored party lights
along
his small
balcony.
party of one your table
is ready.
a bottle of Canadian club,
on the table,
a bucket of ice,
and a black and white
tv
in the corner.
cigarettes too, and a few
magazines,
with centerfolds
stacked in the bathroom.
it was the life
he chose after thirty years
at sea,
ice cream and cold cuts.
close to
the px, the commissary.
a car with a horn
that played
I wish I was in Dixie,
although
he was from Boston.
Dixie being a waitress
he met
in june.