Mary Lou

Down at Mary Lou’s
It’s two thousand fifteen,
The small sandwich Deli
Is nowhere to be seen,
The owners have chosen
To skip it this season,
That Venezuelan Barista
Is absent, the reason.

‘Twas a shocking disappointment
When I entered the store,
To find the Coffee and Deli
This year, was no more,
An assault to my senses
A glaring malfeasance,
Not to bring back the babe
Deleterious indecence.

Why did they do this?
I travelled so far,
Saving all of my quarters
In a piggybank jar,
For an entire year
To make this long journey,
If they won’t open this Deli
I might call my attorney.

Frankly, I suffered
An immeasurable amount,
The tears I did cry?
Too many to count,
But I did find solace
With the licorice candy,
Pondering my loss
With thoughts that were randy.

We made one more trip
To the market of fleas,
The weather was perfect
At eighty degrees,
Mary Lou was in attendance
When I bought some more licorice,
And I realized at last
That she’s quite the dish.



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