 |
| Price's Chef Diner Corpus Christi © C.C. Brooks |
PRICE’S
CHEF
To see what they saw when they’d meet,
across the table under a halo of chrome light.
Far from the financial towers,
singing America’s song.
Remembering that sundress.
And the specific sound of bare legs separating
from the vinyl booth
as she got up to leave.
She said, Carla.
I said, Harla?
She said, no Carla.
I said, PERFECT.
from a homemade conglomerate pendant
more beautiful than any painting.
The chrome light flittering off
cerulean and red and gold flakes.
Elizabeth: A WOMAN.
She loved to shoot guns.
Woman warrior.
I thought I saw a sign on the door that said,
Only old souls allowed.
I
went back there after they were gone,
sitting
there. To see what they saw when they’d meet,
across the table under a halo of chrome light.
Far from the financial towers,
singing America’s song.
Imagining
the stars and planets in her voice,
showtunes
and The Star-spangled Banner. Remembering that sundress.
And the specific sound of bare legs separating
from the vinyl booth
as she got up to leave.
She said, Carla.
I said, Harla?
She said, no Carla.
I said, PERFECT.
Her
neckline a soft canvas
painted
with colored glass from a homemade conglomerate pendant
more beautiful than any painting.
The chrome light flittering off
cerulean and red and gold flakes.
Elizabeth: A WOMAN.
She loved to shoot guns.
Woman warrior.
Price’s
Chef
hasn’t
changed since 1940. I thought I saw a sign on the door that said,
Only old souls allowed.
 |
| Price's Chef Diner Corpus Christi © C.C. Brooks |
 |
| © C.C. Brooks |
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.