Dear ol' dad loved
the way our mom
made fried clams.
It stood to reason
that a deep fat fryer
would be the perfect
Christmas present for her.
He proudly placed it
under the sad, Charlie Brown, tree
he purchased for 3 bucks
two minutes before the lot closed,
on Christmas eve 1955.
The expression
of disappointment
on our mom's face,
evident to me
but masked for
my younger siblings,
made for one of...
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