Ed Markowski, USA
Danny sent us home after we troweled the garage floor as the rain turned to snow. I stopped at Giglio's Little Italy for groceries, exchanged ciao amico's buona seras, grazies, A dopos, and A prestos with Mary and her brother Carmen. I walked back into the wet snow two sticks of pepperoni, two pounds of San Marzano tomatoes, a half pound of smoked Provolone, a half pound of prosciutto, two loaves of Pope Vito's just baked ciabatta, two tins of Sicilian Anchovies, two of Nona Angelina's dark chocolate cannoli's, and two gallons of Carlo Rossi Pink Chablis richer.
After I put the groceries away, I showered, then I sat down to discuss the state of the world with Carlo Rossi in my basement apartment on Abbot Street over a bottle of cheap wine. One sip out of my long stemmed plastic wine glass was all it took for me to begin meditating on this mantra.... God I wish she was here on the other side of my eyes on the other side of this wobbly table. She'd love the knotty pine paneling. She'd love the antique full moon looking glass. She'd love the hooch. She'd love the snow. She'd love the Carlo Rossi. She'd love my round hound. I'd love her pretty pink kitty cat. The heat of We would melt us. Us, she and I would once again become seamless... water flowing into water... bells ringing into bells. She'd love the music, the tree, the fireplace, and the year round Christmas Lights
around the walls, around the rooms, around this world, around our bodies two rainbows becoming one She'd love the upright water fountain. She'd love the red, white, silver, and blue tinsel erupting from the spout glittering on its way down the drain. She'd love the pepperoni, provolone, anchovy, tomato, basil, and prosciutto hero on Pope Vito's warm ciabatta. She'd love Nona's dark chocolate cannoli's, the three legged chair, the rose scented couch, and she would love me all over again, and she would love me for
JUST ONE MORE NIGHT IN THIS CITY IN THIS STATE ON THIS EARTH
But, she wasn't in my basement apartment, she wasn't on my street, she wasn't in Detroit, and she wasn't in Michigan. So I walked up the steps and down the street through the wet snow and slush to the Plato's Plate Coney Island. I made small talk with Sally Lewis in the third booth, and turned down her wink and invitation to have a drink at the Squeeze Inn. When Sally brought my grilled cheese, onion rings, blueberry pie, and Old Milwaukee, we heard the homogenized voice of a newsman quiver and crackle monotone and somber gray through the speaker of a twelve inch RCA black and white above the dessert carousel....
JOHN LENNON WAS....
A Rabbit Pops Out Of
The Snowman's Top Hat
Moon Shadows was previously published in The Haiku Ireland Newsletter & in Tinywords on January 3rd, 2007