Ode to Cumby’s
The first man stands
With a head full of dreads which pour over his
Sour cream & onion (Utz) potato chips, like vines, precariously clutched
In his dirty, left hand.
A chocolate chip cookie lies in his right, riddled with rainbows.
It is the second man,
Mounted six feet and one half-
Myself aloof at the rear-
Darkly arching over his Dr. Pepper soda bottle,
Pack of Newports;
The one with the belly laugh.
The one who was last now becomes first,
One woman remaining behind with a stale coffee
From the beans grown this morning
On the RoLlInG HiLlS and
ValleyS of Western New England.
Where everyone still wears knickers, perhaps.
The label makes me feel like young Huckleberry Finn.
Are you Tom Sawyer?
Would you like to whitewash the fence?
I prom-
My seltzer and cranberry sums to a total of four dollars and fifty cents,
“Five dollar bill should do it”,
I blurt,
Handing him Lincoln in my
Checkered red pajamas,
Stained Chuck Norris T-shirt,
The musty flannel I picked up of the street.
Some nights I feel like a real ass,
At least I can make a good strong Cape Cod.
5 comments:
"One woman remaining behind with a stale coffee
From the beans grown this morning
On the RoLlInG HiLlS and
ValleyS of Western New England.
Where everyone still wears knickers, perhaps. "
I love this stanza, perhaps because I can't stand it when stores call themselves "shoppes" and become nostalgic for a time they can't even remember. The whole poem was great, it was very real and said it like it is.
This is a good poem that takes us to a place that holds good memories for the writer. And in turn it takes us to places that are dear in our own hearts.
The poem brings a smile to my face when I picture a late night run to Cumby's. I particularly enjoyed the specifics of the potato chips. I am curious to know why the author used the change in capitalization in "On the RoLlInG HiLlS and
ValleyS of Western New England."
I enjoyed the "sometimes i feel like an ass" comment. It was the flag that planted it for me. To be honest, I wasn't too thrilled with the opening of this poem. The descriptions of the people were good ones, no doubt, but it didn't quite capture it for me.
I find when I am reading a poem that is doing nothing more than describing a common place scene, I need there to be something to draw me in. Whether that be something that wouldn't normally occur in the given scene, or an exceptional description fo the scene. What you presented was nothing more or less that I could and have seen on my own every time I have goen to cumbys. It left me with an overall feeling of "ok... so...?"
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