On July 4th <br />we walked to the liquor store <br />on Surf Avenue <br />in Coney Island <br />“What’s a good Scotch? ” I asked. <br />“Dewer’s White Label, ” <br />said the guy behind the counter. <br />“That’s what Alvin Goldfarb <br />used to drink, ” said Melvin Hopp, <br />“before he passed <br />had a twisted mind <br />seen him gobble a waterbug once <br />just to impress Ellen Cleary.” <br />“Was she impressed? ” I asked Melvin. <br />“Yeah. <br />Who wouldn’t be <br />if a guy ate a waterbug <br />in your honor <br />then said <br />it tasted like applesauce.” <br />“Used to be a fella worked here, ” I said, <br />“but I can’t remember <br />his name <br />left ear was like <br />bitten off, said <br />a lion done it, but I think <br />he was telling a story.” <br />“Sid Baumgerten, ” said the guy <br />behind the counter. <br />“Right.” <br />“He works here in the morning.” <br />“What about his friend <br />he was with all the time <br />they used eat dinner <br />in Meng’s <br />and the man always <br />poured half a pint of Gin <br />into his ginger ale.” <br />“You mean Roy Braine? ” <br />“Right, right.” <br />“Dead.” <br />“No, ” I said, <br />“and just the other day <br />I found out <br />Fannie Shepherd went <br />and Frank Dorr and Bill Walker <br />last week it was Jim Rogers, <br />Alice Foster, and Tom Wiley. <br />What’s going on? <br />the whole world’s dying.” <br />“Got to be, ” said Melvin Hopp, <br />“to make room.”<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-countless-droves/
