Homer's (the blind man's) poetry as seen by the waiter

"Iliad XVII"
 

  food

  "Twenty bucks ain't cutting it..."

she shouted, out on the street.

"Who do you think I am?"

"The bus fare to Florida is a lot more."

She was coming closer,

"Johnny! eh!

Sweetheart, buy me some shrimp."

He heard him say, "Sorry

can't do!" and she was coming his way.

"Where you from?"

"Monterey!" he answered her.

She said: "Call me Georgia."

His mind was spinning,

he already had had tripe soup,

an open faced sandwich might be nice.

Smell of French fries, Greek salad,

Black olives, came from her mouth

lined with white teeth,

framed by dark red lips.

Her femine presence let him

forget the stink of cigars, stale beer,

and lingering cigarette smoke.

She had the goodies displayed,

a pretty red dress, high heeled shoes,

scratched knees on naked legs.

Smooth skin, dark by nature.

Food for thougth, mustard for the hot

dog, all kinds of relishes, much

was offered in addition to satisfy

his craving for salsa and meat.

No! He didn't want crabs,

that's why he skipped much of

the selection along the railroad

track. At Guituirez he had bought

a plate of roasted carne,

flour tortillas. To go one order of

Merxican langustas, food at the best

in Garden of Eden out West.

She offered herself with

"Want a date?"

Dates are good food

and healthy for the digestion.

Oh yes! He was

getting hungry very fast.

Disclaimer:

Any similarity fitting the reader is done on purpose,

names have not been changed,

no innocence is protected.

May you wear the glass slipper if it fits with royal pride

and never feel hurt by a fool's tongue slurping the sweat of your forhead.

 chapter 18