Saturday, February 27, 2016

7857. STRAIGHT LINES, CROOKED EDGINGS

STRAIGHT LINES, 
CROOKED EDGINGS
I went to the gym a cripple, came out 
a whole man? I entered the cemetery
live, came out a dead body? How does
any of this happen to me? Those old
photos of Christmas, they make me 
blanche. As a kid, I was nothing. Now
I'm worse. One time my father took me
to Brooklyn, looking for something to
curse. We found nothing. I said, 'Let's
visit Walt Whitman.' Dad said, 'Who
is that?' Five lanes of traffic and two hours
later we stopped for some food at the
Queen Elizabeth Diner. It used to be on
Route One in  -  yeah, you guessed it  -  
Elizabeth. Not much  of a place, but
airport-busy nonetheless. Roadies and
truckers and traveling men. We ordered
some food. I forget, but he got his first.
It was faster. Mine seemed to take forever.
It finally came : and was worth the wait.
Gold potatoes in a silver-lining sauce. Not
what I ordered, but a good second-course.
We both ate like kings in the Queen that day.

2 comments:

Martin Kloess said...

Pleasurable thank you for sharing.

Martin Kloess said...

Pleasurable thank you for sharing.