Monday, July 13, 2015


(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.'

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