Poem: Dusk at the Maimed ‘Coon Cafe

Husband’s eyes exceeded his orbitals.
A three-legged derelict entered our lot.
Twisting to the right, ever-so-nonchalant,
“Oh!”
Exclamation revealing all.
Pointless to query,
I drew Husband back to our
after-dinner chat.

Less callous dilettantes dine in Ossining,
you know.
Words easily served -
ring-tailed vagrant out of view.

If thought lightens burden,
we assisted
in securing a suitable supper,
as he hunched, stretched and
pogo-legged his way buildingward.

Nod to Husband,
“When he knocks on your breakroom door,
he’s gone too far.”

Laughter -fills our bellies.

And Guilt belches an appropriate aftertaste.

-Mel. Edwards
6/9/05

Backstory to “Dusk at the Maimed ‘Coon Cafe”
I had driven to my husband’s place of work to bring him dinner when this supposedly wild creature joined our view. I found myself nervous that he might be rabid, but more sickened by his physical state and need to scavenge. Yet, my fear kept me from leaving my vehicle to offer a morsel and my guilt kept trying to take my mind anywhere outside of his world - where I was willing to bet a “civilized” being had maimed him and our disgustingly unhealthy diet had polished him off - at least in function if not form.