Treasure pranced in, shook the snow <br />off her wool cap, sat down, said <br />“Bernstein, I’m here. What now? ” <br />”Big Breakfast, ” I called out to Huey. <br />“When I think of Andy’s future, ” Lucy said, <br />“I don’t see it. Just a wall, <br />ten stories high, painted grey.” <br />Huey appeared with scrambled eggs, homefries, <br />pancakes, fake maple syrup, and coffee. <br />Somehow Joe Kelsey had joined us <br />didn’t see him walk over <br />but there he sat, a smile, staring <br />at the feast. <br />“Would you like some, ” Treasure asked softly. <br />“I accept, ” said Joe who then called out <br />to Huey for another plate. <br />“I wish Andy had a father, ” said Lucy, <br />“but he walked out one morning <br />and never returned <br />because he refused to have a son <br />who couldn’t play baseball, or go swimming, <br />or even eat a bagel by himself… <br />crippled from the neck down.” <br />By now Joe had shoveled scrambled eggs <br />and pancakes onto his plate, <br />pouring syrup over both <br />then chopping up the concoction <br />so he could slurp it down <br />his false teeth having been stolen <br />three weeks ago <br />while he slept on the subway. <br />Outside the snow continued <br />creating a white wilderness <br />not yet pure but getting there. <br />Finished sucking up his syrup stew <br />Joe said, “Thank you, my dear.” <br />Then to Lucy, “He’s alive, <br />that’s all that matters <br />my son’s been in the ground <br />eighteen years <br />wife couldn’t handle it <br />went mad <br />cooped up somewhere in New Jersey…” <br />“Blueberry pie, ” Treasure called out to Huey <br />Joe’s eyes wide now, thinking, hoping, <br />then the words: <br />“For you.”<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-the-crossroads/
