No Such Thing
The free lunch, served by pretty, Swedish maids
We waited to dine until the last of the four
The host, a crazy old-timer
As I wiped my brow with the back of my imperfect hand
Having no family near or far
I retell this tale only for our own fancy.
eased me deliciously.
A fork in one hand, knife in the other
red, cloth napkin triangularly folded on one knee
I sat perfectly still while my tongue waited to taste
the slightly cooked beef
a potato baked twice
and broccoli spears topped with pats of butter.
received service.
As I looked at the others I envisioned myself:
hair neatly combed, teeth as white as an elephant,
clothes impeccable in every detail
from the pressed shirt and necktie,
to the seersucker suitcoat
even matching socks.
who preferred to be labeled eccentric
(because his wallet was well-lined)
discovered us on the upper coast beach.
At first he angered us when asking
why we pick up garbage for free
but laughter soon erupted
after sensing his words were innocuously genuine.
I still recollect the answer:
�Because charity is such challenging work!�
the old man spoke as we smoked used butts.
He enchanted us when mentioning his castle
atop the cliff at the end of the beach
of the pretty Swedish maids
a butler named Sam
and Duchess: an old husky and shepherd mix.
The boys love to hear it every now and again
as we wait in line for Father McEnroy�s soup.