Mark is an everyday man.
Nondescript, soft-spoken, shy guy
who mumbles most responses when questioned
rather than speaking outright.
He prefers not to talk a lot.
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Typically, wears a closely cropped crewcut,
Levi jeans, varying shades of blue Polo shirts
with always a slight trace of grease under his fingernails
remnants from working as a grease monkey
at Mel’s Automotive Garage.
++++++++++
Thirty years old, he still resides
in the basement at his mom Beulah’s house.
She longs for him to marry a nice church gal.
Muttering he says, “I don’t want anyone.”
He figures a steady gal will be more trouble than fun.
++++++++++
Takes care of his manly urges discreetly once a month
at the Motel 6 with a Lady of the Night.
Treats himself to what he considers a luxury meal
of Salisbury Steak, mashed potatoes, gravy and green beans
at Dino’s Diner most Saturday evenings.
++++++++++
Watching his big screen TV fills his pastime.
Never outgrew watching cartoons
and Slime Time kiddy shows that remind him
of his childhood before his world became complicated
by adult responsibilities and expectations.
++++++++++
The other mechanics at Mel’s Garage
tease him about his odd, reclusive ways.
Quietly, he accepts the ribbing.
When he’s had enough, he blurts his standing zinger.
“At least I don’t believe that Bigfoot lives as you do.”
++++++++++
Then they laugh together with this everyday man
who doesn’t feel the need to be anything else.
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