Gala salad

Glen Miller and Jimmy Stewart and June Allyson
were all there, among the potted palms, the silent auction
the speeches of water in a village in Nigeria
the jewels and tuxedos and the Bishop and
a Monsignor sang the blues and we all danced
and drank and ate beautifully prepared
chicken and stuffed tomatoes and ballasted potatoes
delectably presented on hot china.
Somehow, the image of June Allyson
advertising Depends
hung over all the grey heads
jiving and swinging
to the hot howling
of the trombones.

The slide show of drilling in the dusty little village
and paying the bills and getting water flowing
from a deep artesian well otherwise inaccessible
made the whole thing inaccessible:
most of us hadn’t a clue
we were there for villagers’ water;
somebody on the phone sold us a ticket.

Yes, they told us we were wonderful
but it felt like wonder by accident.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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