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(MaGowen’s Pizzaland Monroe, CT 2008)

The caterwaul of the jukebox blends seamlessly with the screech of infants, 
and the fumes of garlic hanging heavily in the air.

The true mama’s and papa’s are here, here where the dough flies 
the glasses clink; and the Beatles belt out 
Strawberry Fields Forever ....

The roar of unruly children,
bashing video buttons to Roll Over Beethoven
pounds into the diners temples, dulled with Pinot noir, Chianti
and pitchers of golden ale.

Trays, tall, saucer-shaped sit beside cherry red baskets
of pristine white bread, as the fire engine red corvettes pull up outside.
The jet-black and chrome model T’s vie for spaces on the asphalt lot
outside the restaurants doors.

Sweet-hearts wait for the cracked, green-vinyl booths
like penitents at a Sunday mornings mass.
Pizza pies fly by on stainless saucer- shaped plates
landing on cluttered Formica tables 
dressed with vinegars and shake cheese

Racecars zoom around the game track; 
as kids run pell-mell down the aisles.
And, only Mary Lou knows  
“Who’s on first?”

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