FOURTEEN GREEN BELLOWS
One time I was sitting in a diner in Bellows Falls,
Vermont - the Bellows Falls Diner, actually - the
cutest little place you ever did see. Small, round-topped,
situated strangely on the corner of something and
something. A guy walked in with an old rifle on his
shoulder - looked like he was from 150 years ago,
and maybe he was. I sat up straight, wanting to watch.
If you ever have imagined, say, Rip van Winkle ordering
food, think what you figure he'd order : potatoes? rice?
meat? This guy ordered a lemonade julip and a platter
of slaw. I'd almost never before heard of either of them,
young as I was and not used to hearing 'slaw' by itself.
Nor julip, which I still don't know what is. I think, too,
it might be julep, not julip. I'd figure the guy myself,
for ordering slowly and deliberate, stumbling over
words and things. But, as it was, it didn't happen
that way. And anyway, I figure, if he was so
old and from another time, why was he alone?
Wouldn't he at least have his 'woman' with him?
Well, as it were, I let it all be and looked down
again at the menu - which was no longer there.
Just a piece of hand-written paper instead,
and everything was like 12 cents, 25 cents,
40 cents, no more. Whew-ee for me!
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