Thursday, April 26, 2007

Skinny Guy in a Sharkskin Suit

We were driving down Hamilton.
We were in the green car.
Heading to the Horrorzone Cafe.
Thinking of pancakes.

Slowed down for the railroad tracks.
Looked to the right.
Looked to the left.
Again to the left.

Those tracks run straight.
Straight in both directions.
Going into the cottonwoods.
Silver green softwood giants.

Over on the left side.
Right by the tracks.
Skinny guy in a sharkskin suit.
Skinny guy under a black hat.

Pacing back and forth.
Aura of misfiring synapses.
Looking in all directions.
Seeing nothing.

Out of place.
Not Dallas.
Out of time.
Not 1963.

Waiting to hop a freight train.
Back to his conspiracies.
Back to his footnotes.
Back to the Starlight Lounge.

We were driving down Hamilton.
We were in the green car.
Heading to the Horrorzone Cafe.
Thinking of pancakes.

4 Comments:

Blogger MB said...

This one makes me laugh and think. Your poems are written so simply, and yet they are a little deceptive that way. Is there a real Horrorzone Cafe??

11:03 AM, April 27, 2007  
Blogger Fred Garber said...

Thanks for the complement! It is a nickname that a friend of mine used for the Horizon Cafe. It is one of those places that is open 24 hours a day and has good basic food. I do like their pancakes!!

11:21 AM, April 27, 2007  
Anonymous damien said...

...but the gus station has much better pancakes-and all you can eat

11:41 AM, May 03, 2007  
Blogger Fred Garber said...

You are right about the pancakes. But we were going to the other place and it was morning and we were thinking about pancakes and I owe to my readers to tell the story as it actually happened.
We ate at gus's last night. I had a gyro and Elba had the fried shrimp special.

12:45 PM, May 03, 2007  

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