Friday, April 6, 2018

BREAKFAST AT THE BRAUHAUS - Poem BREAKFAST AT THE BRAUHAUS - Poem: A Walk around the Block - Grab a Chair and Watch the Film - Three Billboards... Let There Be Light

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Lightning struck while reading "Munich"
and after rolling out of bed, off I went.
Had no idea where it was but memories
of stops n goes, up hills and down, led
me to their muddy parking lot.

Entered through the bar, where men
held beer steins and stared up at
the silent TV.

Knew where I wanted to sit. Was tracing
the steps, not of the bombing of London
and later, Berlin, but when the four of us
had eaten here. Dead of cancer, he's
still my friend.

Do it up right, I hollered to myself.
A croissant filled with eggs, ham, and cheese,
homestyle potatoes I heavily Ketchupped
fresh tender cantalope and coffee filled
to the brim, I sipped slowly. One good
cuppa coffee led to three.

"Michel," I said to the black-clad attendant,
"ask Samantha for some water."

I stared at the wallpaper of a Bavarian
castle. Words came to me, beer hall putsch,
Kristelnacht, Lord Chamberlain and his
wife Annie. Churchill, leaning over intently,
following his every word.

Samantha arrived with ice water
in her Heidi outfit. I was moaning with delight
over the thick sandwich and water, thanking
God I was released more or less intact
from the camps.



I've changed the names of the child

Blustery, still, in early April,
Christ has risen, so he's got
my back, the wind kisses my face,
and a child cries, Hello Miss Ruth!

"Who's that, I call?" backing up a bit.
"Eric," he calls as he and his sister
get out of the car.

For a moment I think they're singing.
They're fighting.

My one wish is to walk astride
a kid. Eric will do. "Look!"
I'd point. "See that red bird?"

All bundled up, Eric would nod.
"That's a cardinal."

That's what I did with my kids
in Austin, Hatboro and Willow Grove.

Gone gone gone. They don't need me



There's nearly always a fracas at the free movie.
"Three Billboards Outside Ebbings, Missouri"
one of the top films of last year, began in confusion,
hold on, I told myself, soon it will all make sense.

Sitting in the back jagged row the viewers had fashioned, I recognized the long horsey face of McDormand, her anger
spilling over and filling up the wood-paneled room. If she
were my mother, I'd've run away.

Her daughter did. A sensible vigilante, she did what her brilliant brain told her to find out the daughter's killer.

Suddenly a bearded man four seats to my left began
to rattle. Rattle Rattle Rattle.
Heads turned. And stared and stared.

He was fishing into some sort of bag. What was he
looking for? I knew if I went over and said, Shut
the hell up, my words would reverberate with me
the length of the picture.

Another major fracas, this time within me.
I'd left my noodle soup on "high" in my slo-
cooker. No way to shut it off except with
your fingers.

Now the movie was ruined for me. Should I jump
up and go home? Would my house go up in smoke like
all the fires in the film? Bloodshed too.

Oh, it was a terrible film, winner of major awards.
Are you glad you went? asked my friend Chris.
Sure am, I said. Now I know what the hullabaloo
is all about.

Just had the following experience. Afterward it's up to bed I go to read myself to sleep. And bike, of course while doing so.


Readying myself for bed
My socks- and PJ-clad self
Shuffles into the blackness
of the kitchen to put away
the hummus.

The darkness terrifies.
I could break my toe
on the leg of my Ikea kitchen table.
Or ram, head first, into the softly
humming fridge.

Mindlessly, I open the
fridge and instantly
I'm in the First Book
of Genesis swimming and
bathing and drinking
in the light.

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