Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Christmas Story

Christmas Story




Only open diner Christmas Eve,
somewhere between Kansas City and Abilene,
old bum, hobo smell -- hooch, rot gut breath
from toothless gums. Dirt and sweat and grease.
Peep-eyes and patty cakes,
arms that ache to hold something.
Such as these. Such as these. Suffer the little children
to come. Such as these.

17 comments:

  1. some Christmas stories are made of these ~ i specially like:

    Peep-eyes and patty cakes,
    arms that ache to hold something.

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    Replies
    1. Don't we all really long for the same things?

      Peace to you, Grace. Thanks for all you do.

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  2. Sometimes places like this produce the warmest memories! A very fine write.

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    1. Thank you, and Merry Christmad, Mary.

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    2. That would be "Christmas!". ;-)

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  3. nice...love what you created ...a little magical oasis...we all need a place at times, the bums - someones children...peep eyes and patty cakes, ha, love that line...all the little children of the world...

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    1. Everyone is somebody's baby. Right, Brian. Peace to you this season.

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  4. At least it was open... Very fine poetry, Karen.
    I hope your Christmas was happy! All the best to you and your loved ones.
    xoxoxo

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    1. Merry Christmas, Vesper! I hope you and yours are well, and I hope you are still writing away!

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  5. many a humble setting becomes a huge Christmas memory and therefore adds meaning to the scene like the one depicted...I remember such a scene when on the road during my youth ;) Merry Christmas.

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  6. Merry Christmas, Katy! Welcome here, and thank you for coming.

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  7. Karen i wonder though, seriously, how many people to put something in those cold cracked hands? I know most folk are busy but surviving is busy too.

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  8. I like the repeated 'such as these', and the arms too - this touched me.

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  9. I hope you gave the fellow a smile. Could be the guy we used to pick up hitching on route 66 . . .

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  10. A belated Merry Christmas to you. Diners have an interesting appeal, you have a way with words. I could see the diner.

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  11. oh, what a wonderful place of refuge Christmas Eve.
    nicely done, Karen. Love the pic

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