MERRICK SQUARE MARKET: A 'Travelogue'...
The screen door slams and the headlines
cry Ike! and Ted Williams! while the
Philco way in the back cranks out
‘The Ballad of a Teenage Queen.’
My Red Ball Jets pad reverently
over the oil-darkened hardwood past
the register’s ka-ching-promise of
Indian head pennies in your change,
down the aisle of warped shelving
stacked like the Walls of Jericho…
the Prince Macaroni boxes elbowing
the Campbell Soup cans… through
the ripe-banana, apple-onion
medley with its pungent tang of
white cheddar from the big
cheesewheel-under-glass…
past glass-bottled, fresh, white milk chilling
in the refrigerated window display, bottle-capped
with collectable, redeemable, half-dollar-size
cardboard discs… and on down to the back where
sea-glass green coke bottles languish like lobsters
neck-deep in the ice water of the open-top
fire-engine-red holding tank beneath the
fading, once festive Fanta, Fudgesicle, Moxie
and Necco signs… and all those dangling
amber banana-curls of slime-gummy
fly-paper, the houseflies raisin-glued
above the jaundiced jars of pickled eggs,
pickled spiced sausages, and those
wax-papered Italians stacked
atop the meat counter
calling my name--
The screen door slams and the headlines
cry Ike! and Ted Williams! while the
Philco way in the back cranks out
‘The Ballad of a Teenage Queen.’
My Red Ball Jets pad reverently
over the oil-darkened hardwood past
the register’s ka-ching-promise of
Indian head pennies in your change,
down the aisle of warped shelving
stacked like the Walls of Jericho…
the Prince Macaroni boxes elbowing
the Campbell Soup cans… through
the ripe-banana, apple-onion
medley with its pungent tang of
white cheddar from the big
cheesewheel-under-glass…
past glass-bottled, fresh, white milk chilling
in the refrigerated window display, bottle-capped
with collectable, redeemable, half-dollar-size
cardboard discs… and on down to the back where
sea-glass green coke bottles languish like lobsters
neck-deep in the ice water of the open-top
fire-engine-red holding tank beneath the
fading, once festive Fanta, Fudgesicle, Moxie
and Necco signs… and all those dangling
amber banana-curls of slime-gummy
fly-paper, the houseflies raisin-glued
above the jaundiced jars of pickled eggs,
pickled spiced sausages, and those
wax-papered Italians stacked
atop the meat counter
calling my name--
