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Poem

“Hello….uh, umm…Have we met?...Yea, that's right…Sure… Karen?”

Well I don't know you well but you seem like the kind
That might join me for coffee at the five-and-dime? 
But they don’t have five-and-dimes anymore,
Now they just call them 'Dollar Stores'.
 
And you won't find a counter where coffee is served
But if licorice and Spam is what you prefer
A big Beggar’s Banquet is in store for you. 
We can chat and can laugh in my Subaru.
 
Now a half-hour ago you were almost a stranger
And a question like this could perhaps signal danger…
Can we go to my place and chat there instead?
My tool shed is warm (and there won't be a bed!)
 
But there’s an old wooden desk that I got from my mom
And a field jacket on the wall I brought back from Nam,
Amid mouse traps, rakes, and seed for the lawn.
I can brew up some tea; it won't take too long,
 
It’s there that I write, maybe smoke a cigar.
Its there that I keep my fears in a jar,
A family reunion is framed on the wall.
And my Stella guitar leaning in amongst all,
 
If you just take a chair and let me sing you some songs
That an old man kept hidden but never belonged
In this dusty old shack. So…if  you please, may I croon?
Please, sit in the chair. Let me sing you a tune.

 ... and the song I sang? From Donovan - https://youtu.be/-cd2yG7BiVg

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