[lit-ideas] Re: Sunday
- From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Mon, 12 Jul 2004 14:05:16 -0700
We should have guessed, of course.
There was a Union Jack
painted on the roof,
and the menu promised authenticity.
In what I think of as the paddywhack stretch of highway 5,
one exit south of the prison,
near the Uncle Sam signs denouncing Locke and Clinton,
not far from the outlet stores and the outsider art garden,
past where that other guy has erected statues on huge rusty poles--
Mother Teresa, victims of the Holocaust, native Americans,
all good-hearted souls and no doubt worthy--
it was right about there that we saw the word "restaurant,"
rendered on a roof.
Desperately hungry, we pulled off,
and fell victim to muggers with spurtles.
It was a true refuge for wreckers.
On staff were murderers of innocent freshness,
boilers of frozen ingredients,
inept batterers of fish,
ruiners of chips,
highwaypersons with licenses to fry,
people with not the slightest compassion for razors
or any other kind of clam.
I will say, though, that the knick knacks,
the toffee boxes with faded pictures of the young queen on,
the pottery and the leprechaunia
the tartanry and baskets,
were done just right,
filling all the walls
with absolutely perfect blight.
David Ritchie
Portland, Oregon
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