Coney Island #33 Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

At two am
In Kennedy Fried Chicken
Mary (Loli’s friend)
who had no real home
now in her early seventies
sat
eating
a vanilla ice-cream cone
while the wind
drove the freezing rain
across the polished dark fabulous
streets of Coney Island.
“So cold, so cold, Mary, ” I said
“why no coffee? ”
She looked up at me
about to speak, she smiled,
no false teeth tonight
“All men I knew are gone, ”
she whispered,
not answering the question
or perhaps answering it
the best way she could.