As the snow fell gently
I tumbled into Meng’s at 4: 33 in the morning
and spotted Johnny Walsh
once a Priest now an Out Patient
at South Beach and also a philosopher
who sought for truth outside of faith.
“The Bastards are at it again, ” he said
lifting the coffee to his lips, tasting a bit
then pouring in the Jack Daniel’s for flavor.
“Ain’t that the truth, ” said Harry Katz
closing in on ninety but mind still sharp.
I looked at my watch wondering when
Treasure would show up.
“Oh, she’ll be here, ” said Walsh,
“soon, at first light.”
And then at 5: 03 she pranced in
blue wool cap covered with snow,
then lifted Walsh’s cup
for a decent swallow.
I stared at the ice-crystals swirl.
Harry tasted his oatmeal topped
with prunes and smiled.
And Treasure did the same
also smiling, using Harry’s spoon.
Walsh went on with his summation
of all human history,
“The Bastards are at it again.”
A blast of snow and the true blizzard arrived.
“Used power tools, they did
in Baghdad, on flesh
probably to the bone.”
“Back then the Bastards
used water, ” said Harry.
“Three naked men in a barrel
who froze solid in the Polish night.”
“Who done that? ” asked Treasure gently.
“The Bastards, ” said Walsh
his voice trembling.
I called out to Huey for two orders
of eggs, homefries, toast, and coffee
then waited and watched
as this bit of Brooklyn
become a wonderland.
Charles Chaim Wax
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/consecrated-to-the-service-of-god/
