my old man’s successful restaurant

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my momma walked: she looked
      – she started
  but then she stopped

walked
but so wondering

from the front room
she
could see the big ole house
      – the whole of it
      – the small ported areas that are quelled behind the bigger rooms
  all of it


I don’t know where all of the money comes from …
who eats so much giblets anyway
our restaurant’s front counter is crowded with eaters
like they ain’t got no damn giblets of their own
  tucked in reynolds wrap in their own personal freezer boxes where
    ice cubes do just fine at their own homes
      in nice neighborhoods and with vegetable gardens that are so alive

I heard daddy say, ‘we need more rooms!’
oh come on now how many rooms do we need?
Stop at four or five
    ( but maybe several bathrooms …
        little jenny bullshits for hours every morning
        curling her hair and looking at her girl nose )
see we don’t need any more rooms,
tell these people to quit eating so much giblets
    ( but they are fantastic when they are breaded
        with a little rosemary and onion, maybe a spit of
        worcestershire sauce and a slight drip of olive oil, dark )




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3 thoughts on “my old man’s successful restaurant

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