by Bob Chaney

Created on: February 13, 2009

THE LUBBOCK BOWLING CLUB
(The Coca Cola Man)

It's Thursday
The middle of August
The young man was here before dawn
Preparing the lanes
With the calloused hands of an artist
Four-thirty is not too early to start
Before the gamecock can crow
He sweeps the lanes
Clears the decks
And mops the gutters out
The buffer with a gunny bag
Takes off the last of yesterday
Then it will be time

To take a break
The first one of the day
Except on Thursday
The Coca Cola man comes on Thursday
That's his day ...Thursday
Just before the weekend
The red truck pulls into the parking lot at six
Right to the door
The young man hears the roar above the buffer noise
Right on time
Filled with light green bottles
And that caramel colored liquid
One crisp clink announces the arrival
Of the Coca Cola man
The man watches from his work
As the dark green denim clad youngster
Wheels his way inside
With the first ten
Bright yellow wooden cases
One hundred forty-four ounces in each
Twenty-four six-ounce bottles
That must be opened
With a church key
Take 'em to the back for starters
Dolly wheels hum on the concrete aisle
The Coca Cola man moves briskly
Bringing the new stock in
And taking the empties out
Three trips later he stops at the machine
Bright red like his truck
Purring softly
Coolly protective of its treasure
The man stops the buffer
And leans on the handles
Observing the ritual
A shiny key clatters into the lock
And the box lets out a groan
"Almost empty"
The Coca Cola mans says
To no one
"Been a hot week"
The man replies
To himself
The bottles slam home rapidly
Staccato bursts of glass on metal
Filling the box to its capacity
Plus a couple of extra
In the bottom for safekeeping
The coin box is emptied
The changer cycles
And he closes the door slowly
Like a banker with a vault
The Coca Cola man reaches into his back pocket
And pulls out a yellow card
On which he makes quick marks
With a short pencil
The fluorescent hum swells
As he pauses to check the accounts
Then he waves and heads for the door
"See ya next week"
The old man goes back to work
Preparing the alley lanes
He plugs in the oil sprayer
And begins to mix his magic carefully
He knows its best to wait a while
To allow for proper cooling

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