ALL MY MORTIS
(Perth Amboy, NJ - waterfront)
This newspaper keeps blowing around and
it is wearing a fez - the funny Turkish hat
that looks almost like a cone. Makes me wish
to be a whirling dervish too. The bold lady cooking
food comes over to ask me what I want; I nod to her
'over there' and point : five gallons of some fermenting
liquid holding hard-boiled eggs. 'Two pieces of toast
with that, and a flower for my tonsils, if you please.'
She being a mother to someone, I just knew she'd like
that last touch. Otherwise, yeah it made no sense.
The kid who works in the harbor is standing nearby; he's
watching boats again as the party-boat loads with people.
Some dastardly babe with a lung-type fish-pole for an
attitude strides on - everyone stands still and watches
as the Captain comes by and helps her in. He wants to
scold her for being late - he's held the boat's departure
for her now for five or six minutes while she parked.
But he only mentions it, as he already had done, to us :
'I've got these people, they want four hours, out and back.
I've got no time to waste on prima-donnas. But I'm stuck.'
Otherwise, what to do. Otherwise, who to see and how
to salvage the wreck of a bad situation. Sea gulls are
making a lot of noise overhead : 'I bet it's her damned
perfume they're reacting to. She smells like a
flower-pot cod in a tuna fish girdle.'