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Poem

I Recall the Smell of that Place

I recall the smell of that place.
It came from the small side cafeteria.
I ate there daily for two months of my young life; 
From the heat of September 1959, to the chill of early November;
Just a freckled, hungry third grader at Bonneview Elementary,
There, in the outskirts of Redding, a short walk to the cold Sacramento.
Other boys and girls my age were standing in line, waiting
To receive their lunches on green plastic trays at the side window, 
With three smiling ladies waving for us to move quietly forward. 
The smell of that place was the same everyday, like my mother’s kitchen.
It was the smell of serial casseroles, cheesy and heavy with boiled noodles.
It was the smell of restless postwar children working up a chance to scream at recess.
All of us, just a bunch of 9 year olds, staring at the coming 60’s with no clue;
All together oblivious to the future roadkill to appear, down the highway a bit,
The tragic endless parade of body-bagged playmates from 1959,
Coming into Dover, draped and cradled in the triune colors of  the Mother Republic, 
My friends from Bonneview who were with me in line all those times,
Smelling the smell of that place; that small side cafeteria, 
With the three smiling ladies, waving us kids to keep moving forward.

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