8546. ALL THOSE EARS

ALL THOSE EARS

My mother had a bread-man named

'Sarge'. He'd come every few days,

leaving whatever he left  -  a loaf,

or some cupcakes or anything else

joyous to kids. He'd say 'I won't

loaf with my loaves, so you never

have to wait.' No, not really,

I made that up. He never really

talked to me, except kid stuff.

Up and down the block, like a 

monkey-addled serviceman,

he'd stop and talk to all the

ladies on the route. It was 

all too weird to understand,

in some 1957 way. They'd

let him in, and he'd babble

like an old woman. This

and that; nothing real,

just this and that.