Three days before it was pick-up-and-scrub,
the tops of doorjambs wiped clean
for white gloves come to test disarray.
Dad packed up the kids and fled
the cheddar cubes, plastic forks suspended
in Jell-O—that was judgment, ambrosia and trident—
oh, but it was delicious
at the Drive-in, sliding in pajamas down
into the pit, waking
just in time to see
great Pharaoh drowned
and Charlton Heston rosy
in his holy rags ... now, that
was a good story, that
kept us awake
until the end credits, the moon
huge as it wandered down
the black gullet of avenue,
bright eye swallowing
the windshield. ... We made it
home to the ruins
of the feast: crustless sandwiches
smelling faintly of ocean, platoons
of celery, mints and dip (they always
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