Glorious Memories Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

Glorious Memories

Rating: 5.0


Sitting in Moe Fine’s
Ice Cream Emporium
on Flatbush Avenue
after Hannah McGill’s funeral
I said, “So many teachers passed away
the last nineteen years...not the same.”
“Remember Vinnie Weed? ” asked Henry F
“Funny guy
hadn’t thought of him in awhile.”
“Never forget, never
all the years
he wore that cheap mat on his head
and nobody said a word
everyone knew
not a word.”
“Mabel Figgnat, ” I sighed.
“Lord, yes
recall when she almost
crushed me to a pancake
after she slipped on the applesauce
and landed on me? ”
“Thought you was a goner for sure
only thirty-three
when she passed
think she wanted to kill herself
after her husband passed away
eating two dozen jelly donuts a day
with a heart condition.”
“NEVER THINK SUCH A THOUGHT
ABOUT MABEL, ” thundered Henry F.
I quickly said,
“Jacob Friedman.”
“His wife a shrink
but didn’t do him much good
man talked
but never made sense. What a guy! ”
“Huh? ”
“Don’t you see, Bernstein? His cuckooness
added to the flavor
of the stew.”
“Sam Greenbaum, ” I sighed;
“THE LAST HIPPIE, ” exploded Henry F,
“wish he was back with us
always had a joke to tell.”
“Matilda Frisby, ” I blurted out.
“And Mary Eato, ” chuckled Henry F.
“No more
no more names
my heart hurts.”
“God is good, ” said Henry F.
“You’re an atheist
how many times you said
God and Hitler
could never exist in the same Universe.”
“Not today when
a dear friend
journeys into the Great Beyond.”
“The Almighty don’t allow
a part-time believer.”
“You can’t figure out what God thinks
nobody has such understanding
else they’d be wise as Him
and there ain’t not a person on Earth like that
yes, my friend,
all the departed souls are up there,
looking at us
hearing what we say
a great comfort it is.”
“You’ve been an atheist for nineteen years! ”
“Not today!
Today I know in my heart
the whole of Creation
moves toward
the Perfection of Heaven.”

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Max Reif 01 November 2005

An heir of Bukowski, aren't you? (I actually don't know that much Bukowski.) I wonder if someone'd publish a book with all those quirky voices in your poems. Wonder if you're sending things out? Thoughts of Damon Runyon, too, reading yours...

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