with photos of Theodor Herzl
and that girl who sang
“You Light Up My Life,”
plus also an unshaven Fred Flintstone
shaking hands with Pierre Trudeau
and smirking into the camera,
I was about to order (as usual)
the chicken curry with basmati rice
and a big glass of milk when
I noticed Misery
hanging by the jukebox.
A draft nearly knocked me over
as Thelma the waitress came in from her smoke,
and I pulled my coat tighter,
and she pulled hers looser,
and I ended up at the jukebox.
“Would you like a little company” I said,
and just as he parted his lips to answer,
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