First stanza: 2017.

Second stanza: 2022. 




Cara Mia

That cold March night

at the Burren in Davis Square,

with the Newcastle

and the chowder

and---yes---the main course

that would give any vegetarian

a nervous breakdown,

was more fun than a phalanx

of purple-haired skateboarders

caterwauling Belinda Carlisle tunes

in Old Church Slavonic.

 

*

 

That August afternoon

at the Red Hat near the Lindemann

with A-Bomb tending bar

and her trio of killer martinis

that could peel paint off the wall

(five ounces of gin in each drink),

and afterwards, at Max & Dylan's

the pitch-black oatmeal stout,

and the pie-eyed stagger-step

commute back to the 'burbs,

oh, yeah, good times, good times.





Poetry by Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 202 times
Written on 2022-08-12 at 09:58

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poems have natural flow and ease, almost an inevitability. But such ease doesn't come by chance, and I appreciate the deliberateness that lies behind the ease.
2022-08-12


Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Funny how life can have unintended 'nurturing'! All my childhood was spent with a Father who was a 'Licenced Victualler' and/or publican. The consequence was that I have probably only visited a pub less times than the fingers on my hands in about sixty-five years! I understand the appeal, but it has different connotations for me. I appreciated the dual nostalgia though.
Allen
2022-08-12