Hog's Breath Café Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Shallow she was,
make up by the pound,
eye shadow, crimping tool.
So many rings
all over.

But nothing much
in way of soul
or heart,
which does
if you consider
the world today,
assist in adaptation
and survival.

So when the gang of thirty,
all Harley guys, in leather,
came to the town that day,
they brought their filth
into the Hog's Breath Café,
where late that night,
they had their grinning way,
yes, all of them
some sober,
and used their calloused hands.

Though no one had anticipated
that she would smile throughout.
And be an active
and quite helpful
if not to say aggressive,
yet enthusiastic
participant.

And when the sun peeked in
at dawn,
she said
' Well guys, it has been fun,
but nothing lasts these days,
so, do you mind?
I am most ready,
right this second, truly.
My name is Shallow
and I own this
happy joint.