The Eighth Avenue Boarding House IncidentA Poem by Jim GivenA brief story - based poem
The cobblestone street lined with overfilled trash cans
in front of boarded-up shops.
A smell of mildewing lox and stale bagel overpowers you as you cross the rotting wood Benedict Arnold Bridge. There on that archaic boulevard Is Birnbaum’s Grill and
Boarding House Laundry. A stone structure with its chipping gray paint and broken windows.
Inside, on a third-floor aisle room, an old man sleeps and dreams, an
old man's dreams, his entertainment-- as real as death, and social security checks.
The things that allowed him his bent cans of dog food and second-hand can opener.
This man .(who remains nameless, except to the government and Mrs. Cohen, who died two years ago), now turns on the stove in which the pilot light has not been Iit for years, and throws the matches away.
That spring sticking up through the mattress jabbed him for the last time, he thought. © 2014 Jim GivenReviews
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Added on April 18, 2014Last Updated on April 18, 2014 AuthorJim GivenJupiter, FLAboutI am 59 years old and semi-retired from working as a manager in municipal government. During much of life, beginning as far back as high school, I have written poetry and short stories. Since I ha.. more..Writing
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