Copley Square, Ken's Deli~ By Doug Holder

Copley Square—Midnight—Slipped into Ken’s Deli. A Jackie Gleasonish fat man –the manager—stationed by the rotisserie chickens—a chorus line of spread legs, melting flesh, wings posturing on their plump hips—wondering which one would I choose. A dishwasher emerged, effeminate man, dirty apron, a cigarette in a holder, long expressive hands, wearing an eye patch. Drag Queens in the men’s room. At the counter on the first floor—a waitress—not long on patience piped “What’s it going to be, hon.” Actors off from a gig at the Colonial, gesturing to each other dramatically at the booths—a few years before—I was a dishwasher here. I was chosen from a lineup of world-weary men: “You, you and you,” at 5PM—peering at all this through stacks of dishes—all this would be mine one day—a late night character—laughing over corn beef and chopped liver on dark rye—with poets and writers, after a day of writing—joking like Dorothy Parker, my round table…my Algonquin Hotel. The men I worked with I knew would reappear again—even then taking mental notes—trying to construct a narrative of the chaos of my life.

*Originally published in Constellations Magazine (December 2015)
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Author Bio:
Doug holder is the founder of the Ibbetson Street Press, and the arts/editor for The Somerville Times. His work has appeared in Rattle, The Boston Globe, Poetica, Buckle, Word Riot and many others. He teaches writing at Bunker Hill Community College and Endicott College in the Boston area.