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| Junket in the Spring |
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| Bek Andoloro |
Cosmo's Sonnet
Saturdays under a bridge in Brooklyn
through summers that melted Coney Island Sundays
as the Wonder Wheel streamed through my window -
When I think of him now, it's pickle relish
plopped onto my blouse - us on a park bench
as he traced the spill's trail and further below
to raspberry snowcones, pink cotton candy,
and subway cars beneath in the station.
There are scraps of us now - kosher parchment,
graffitied initials faded on brown stone.
That bridge and that bench belonged to as many
as rode the Wonder Wheel all the Sundays
before Coney Island was left on its own,
Brownstones converted to flats - beige apartments.
Place for Us
You and me in the back of a flat-bed Ford -
I was a city-girl you said, handing
the long-necked bottle and brushing against
my white T-shirt as your eyes followed and
fingers wished for urban structure, but then
again, I never was. This Wisconsin
small granite town brought no understanding
of neon - homelessness, gridlock - mere words.
When you looked at me then it was through pillars,
wasn't it? Because I'd been to Rome or
tasted things without gravy or sweet corn.
But, what distanced us was your pompous scorn-
whittled me like green sticks on a backporch
as I tried to chug the long-neck bottle.
Bio:
I've worked in human services for twenty years with a variety of populations and individuals. Most of the ideals I hold can be found in the wrappers of Dove dark chocolate promises and I am convinced that, if I continue opening them (and promptly disposing of the contents), I will uncover the meaning of life or something similar. Mmmm, I'll keep trying.
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