A Gift Shop in Dubuque, Iowa

[Billy]

A Gift Shop In Dubuque, Iowa

He dropped dead
in the restroom.

The last photo of dad
he's beside a mannequin
wearing a derby.

Dad wore derbies for years,
and little silk ties more like ascots.

He stretched out his neck,
a finger lifting the lace
to people's noses to smell.

He said it was woven
from Marilyn Monroe's

panties. Who knew?
He played poker with Legs
Diamond on a train to Chicago,

had clandestine rendezvous
with shady characters in suits.

He always found money
for his latest enterprise.
Family and friends said,

"Your dad knew how to make
money, just couldn't hold on to it.

He could've been a millionaire."
I had known all these stories,
but recently I learned something

much better than all the rest.
One day Aunt Merva revealed

that when dad was a young man
he carried an instrument case
everywhere, but it wasn't

for a Tommy Gun. A Buffet clarinet.
He dreamed of being a jazz musician,

played any chance he got.
I never saw him pick up an instrument

or even sing along with others.
Now, I imagine him on stage
looking hip in his black bowler,

blowin' that clarinet like a million bucks.

[BobBradshaw]

Just a charming poem, Billy. You nail this one. I love the opening...just a terrific character, memorable....you have earned a nom at the end of the month if you want it...let me know...kudos! It's been a joy reading the terrific personas and characters Ken, Frank and you have built up over the last month....

He dropped dead
in the restroom.

The last photo of dad
he's beside a mannequin
wearing a derby.

[Kenneth2816]

Nice study Billy. The dichotomy.

[SivaRamanathan]

Enjoyed reading this. Some slow descriptions and a surprise climax. Nice one, this.

[IndianaDP]

Nicely told story, great detail.

[Billy]

Thanks Bob, Kenneth, Siva, "Indiana"