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I like to sit out on the porch,
the VERANDAH, as she calls it,
hailing as she does from the deep south,
plantation country, Southern Belles,
one of whom I snatched.
And all because the 126 film
Kodak,400, it was defect.
Would not unravel even if you tried,
so the clerk was in for a tirade
after all, I was known for my temper
in certain places and times.
Well, things sometimes throw you,
a loop of a counter in the shop
and a cleavage to scare mountaineers,
but it wasn't that, her voice had
the melodious quality of smoke
mixed with Manuka honey,
and that drawl that just seems to flow
from deep within, rolling out
not being harsh or pushy at all,
but soothing and stroking the inner ear.
I was, and would get credit for confessing
within the span of sweaty milliseconds
reduced in size and sans facilities for speech.
She took the film and held it up
against the ceiling fan as if this could
elucidate the fault, and well it might,
deft hands (and no banana fingers) held
the object of my troubles and she said:
It may well be the heat my friend, it has
been soo oppressive, and of late
folks go to church to pray, just for the rains
perhaps this film would need some fluid,
kid you not, much stranger things do happen here,
and then she poked a little Phillips tool
into the plastic housing of the film,
producing within moments the main cause
of what had shamed today the Kodak Family.
She pursed her lips, increasing momentarily
their lusciousness and then she spoke again.
What we have here is what I call a Covert Belle,
they hide in such weird places and they stay,
poor thing got caught inside the works
to meet his maker, not much time for him to pray.
Two lovely dimples had appeared and graced her cheeks,
she placed my hand upon the Kodak and she squeezed,
it took the better part of days, well maybe weeks
and opportunity came by, was promptly seized.
Here on my porch I reminisce about the days
so full of happiness and Moonshine after dark
she serves me faithfully in many different ways
we still buy Kodak and drink local Hooch for spark.
Herbert Nehrlich
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