SHELLEY HIRSCH

A clamoring destination- wet dream.. The mystery of tendons and arteries and blood vessels.
Your vessel, your home. I cannot tell you what happened that day, maybe not even never. It’s okay. She looked and a double rainbow took her away.
Inside a buttercup there is a powdery saffron colored substance and there is no reason why she should be remembering wearing feet pajamas at the Drive-In Movie Theater.
A little boy named Herbie who had fuzzy hair like a new born baby called her brother Ricky Doc. Ricky would remember the name of the theater. Was it the Sunshine Drive-in? One never went there in the daytime-It had to be dark to see the movies.
But wait! Sunrise Drive-In. That’s it!
But shouldn’t it be called Sunset Drive-In?
Anyway-they drove there in the turquoise-ish colored station wagon.
There were funny speakers that all cars had clamped onto their windows.
She and Ricky Doc and Karen Rita and maybe Randy Sue if she were born by then- were wearing feet pajamas. And they got popcorn and frankfurters.
They were good ones. We called them franks.
She couldn’t remember the taste of the franks at Nedicks.
That’s where her beloved step-grandfather Sam Black sold frankfurters on 34th St.
The name of the man who worked at the counter with him was Sam White. And he was Black.
Did they say someone was black in those days?
Sam White had very dark skin and her step- grandfather Sam Black was very white.
He did have very black hair. Thinning and slicked back with some kind of gel
Perhaps Bryll Creem. “A little dab ‘ll do ya” .

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