Lemon Yogurt

 

The taste of lemon yogurt was never something I thought would appeal,
its sweet tart-refreshing flavor now brings memories so strange and welcoming,
I harken back to days of a childhood spent in murky downtown Hollywood,
the weekly trip across the freeway and up the elevator
to the ICU to watch as my father lay dying -
tubes in every orifice to keep him alive. 

 

Take the elevator down, down, down to the basement
where, if lucky, I would eat food strange and appealing in its beige crispness
but only ever offered the solitary healthy thing there.
Lemon yogurt so tangy and sweet
fills my brain with pictures of sun shining down on prostitutes and beggar women
who flip the bird at our offering of blankets and food -
give me money. 

 

Lemon yogurt like the sun setting soft yellow at the edges
to walk along this street to the only warm meal
served with a smile for two years,
in a building with an enormous burro atop its roof like a foreign mast sailing me away
for a moment of normalcy back to childhood,
to the time before the hard doom of life creeped back up
with every floor ticked off the elevator meter.

2014