As the snow fell gently <br />I tumbled into Meng’s at 4: 33 in the morning <br />and spotted Johnny Walsh <br />once a Priest now an Out Patient <br />at South Beach and also a philosopher <br />who sought for truth outside of faith. <br />“The Bastards are at it again, ” he said <br />lifting the coffee to his lips, tasting a bit <br />then pouring in the Jack Daniel’s for flavor. <br />“Ain’t that the truth, ” said Harry Katz <br />closing in on ninety but mind still sharp. <br />I looked at my watch wondering when <br />Treasure would show up. <br />“Oh, she’ll be here, ” said Walsh, <br />“soon, at first light.” <br />And then at 5: 03 she pranced in <br />blue wool cap covered with snow, <br />then lifted Walsh’s cup <br />for a decent swallow. <br />I stared at the ice-crystals swirl. <br />Harry tasted his oatmeal topped <br />with prunes and smiled. <br />And Treasure did the same <br />also smiling, using Harry’s spoon. <br />Walsh went on with his summation <br />of all human history, <br />“The Bastards are at it again.” <br />A blast of snow and the true blizzard arrived. <br />“Used power tools, they did <br />in Baghdad, on flesh <br />probably to the bone.” <br />“Back then the Bastards <br />used water, ” said Harry. <br />“Three naked men in a barrel <br />who froze solid in the Polish night.” <br />“Who done that? ” asked Treasure gently. <br />“The Bastards, ” said Walsh <br />his voice trembling. <br />I called out to Huey for two orders <br />of eggs, homefries, toast, and coffee <br />then waited and watched <br />as this bit of Brooklyn <br />become a wonderland.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/consecrated-to-the-service-of-god/
