There was laughter in a green kitchen
that was once pink.
A broken couch because we made a pyramid,
falling over with a shout and a crack.
Too young to drink,
it's cigarettes, cokes and coffee
on the stoop.
The arc of day mingles with night
-the way boys and girls do.
Records and cards played until dawn.
Pennies are tossed in a careless pile
waiting for a straight flush,
or the bluff of the night.
Later it's stealing peaches from Nunzio's tree,
and in the morning cigarettes from his shop.
One night, Maria, who never eats peaches,
not even the canned ones, climbs the tree alone.
When Nunzio finds her she is the color of a ripe peach
the last to bloom on the tree; without life, breath,
she belongs to her mother now, who did not eat cherries.
We are handed a vow of silence.
The priest has a story to tell, because God never lies
and Maria must to find her way to heaven.
The wound is sealed quickly,
quietly, with dirt, stone and a secret.
We stop eating peaches
even the canned ones.
The couch fixed good as new
will not hold another pyramid.
Nunzio closes his shop and disappears
on a ship in a bottle.
One night in the green kitchen
I toss a penny and laugh,
awkwardly at first, out of rhythm.
One by one the chorus grows.
We keep laughing, keep it ringing
-ringing to the beat of pennies tossed in a pile,
and bluff our way through the night.
that was once pink.
A broken couch because we made a pyramid,
falling over with a shout and a crack.
Too young to drink,
it's cigarettes, cokes and coffee
on the stoop.
The arc of day mingles with night
-the way boys and girls do.
Records and cards played until dawn.
Pennies are tossed in a careless pile
waiting for a straight flush,
or the bluff of the night.
Later it's stealing peaches from Nunzio's tree,
and in the morning cigarettes from his shop.
One night, Maria, who never eats peaches,
not even the canned ones, climbs the tree alone.
When Nunzio finds her she is the color of a ripe peach
the last to bloom on the tree; without life, breath,
she belongs to her mother now, who did not eat cherries.
We are handed a vow of silence.
The priest has a story to tell, because God never lies
and Maria must to find her way to heaven.
The wound is sealed quickly,
quietly, with dirt, stone and a secret.
We stop eating peaches
even the canned ones.
The couch fixed good as new
will not hold another pyramid.
Nunzio closes his shop and disappears
on a ship in a bottle.
One night in the green kitchen
I toss a penny and laugh,
awkwardly at first, out of rhythm.
One by one the chorus grows.
We keep laughing, keep it ringing
-ringing to the beat of pennies tossed in a pile,
and bluff our way through the night.