Long ago and far away
Words were a joy to pronounce
No need to renounce childhood
Let’s return to the scene
At a restaurant, we’ll convene.
We’ll name it the Red Red Rooster
Where at the age of three,
Perhaps—
A waitress looked at me
And with a nod to my mom
Placed a neat
Red block on my seat
And boosted me
Lifted me up
For a glittery glimpse of the world—
Or, at least able to see
Turkey and treats on the table.
60 years later
I plop down
In a plastic seat at CVS
When a young thing,
So much younger than me
How could it be?
Unwraps a needle
And mutters through her mask
“Here for your booster?”
I nod and turn away,
Face a blank wall
Nothing to see
No turkey, no glee for me.
No Red, Red Rooster.
So long ago
When I could enjoy my
Big, big booster. ❏
Between boosters one and two, Wendy Dodek has written TV and radio news stories, edited scripts for Japanese TV programs, and most recently published a piece about converting Japanese handkerchiefs into pandemic masks in Manifest Station.
