[Portage, December
22, 2010]
Crow’s
nest, signage declares
Upstairs,
above Westnedge traffic
Service
so slow calendars
Suffice,
the weighter a twenty
First
cent Fatty Arbuckle
Clone,
with frontal hair top knot,
Gold
rings dangle from both ear lobes
Black
apron tied low-rider style
Below
his arse, over plaid shorts.
Curtains
over windows the color
Of
severely smudged brick,
Here
in Upper Yupdomville,
A
threesome of Peace Corps vets
Recounting
their days in darkest
AF-ree-ka,
over tofu breakie
At
nine bucks a pop, the woman declares
They
might’ve stayed up to five years
But
she was always sick, her words.
Other
fast-breakers surround us
Mainly
of the Inca-chooker
And
Earth-shoe set, soles the shape
of
fur harvesters’ skinning knives,
palavering
far behind us.
Peacecorpsgirl
adds, “No computer,
No
internet, dude it was primitive,
Like
totally?" Across the street
Neon
blinks cigarettes and cold drinks
Beside
the Crazy Monkey Tattooery,
The
girl beside me has black fingernails,
Did
I mention s l o
w service
But
a Boffo Breakie Burrito?
Dudes,
let us give thanks for zany.