Snow day 1952

Ermine trimmed railing on the porch;

frozen milk mushrooms out of tops of square bottles.

Black galoshes, corduroys, war surplus pea coat,

air corps bomber cap with earlaps and

lamb’s wool lined leather flying gloves.

Fifteen feet of sidewalk and the path

to the front door for a silver quarter,

fifty cents for the house on the corner.

Film Noir

The Automat was open twenty-four hours a day

because there had to be someplace to go

in that hour between five and six A.M.

when, by law, the bars had to close.

A nickel for a cup of hot fresh coffee the color of his old

camel hair jacket, luckily the stain wouldn’t show when it dried.

Four nickels for ham and eggs, and another one for a doughnut.

Two more which he rubbed together

between his thumb and forefinger smiling,

remembering the story the older kids told him

that new nickels came from the buffaloes rubbing

their bellies together like when he saw his mom and dad doing it.

Those and the quarter he had in his pocket

would pay for the first Wild Turkey of the day at 6:05 AM.