The Last Fly of Summer
by Carl Santoro
a bright, humid morning.
New York City.
a CHILD's pancake restaurant.
i'm sitting on a
revolving stool
by the counter
waiting for my order.
leafing through the
SEBRING 100 WALLAMATIC
record selector
and just as my omelette
is place into my tie-
there he is-
lying stale, crushed,
frozen in time between
GEORGY GIRL and HARD DAY'S NIGHT.
embarrassing, i think.
|
2
favs |
1154 views
3 comments |
64 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
The author has not attached a note to this story.
Other stories by Carl Santoro
Tags
This story has no tags.
Groups
-
Bugged
Public group3 members -
New York City
Public group107 members
Comments
You must
log in
to post comments.
I like this a lot. Best that you didn't’ name the song of course. You really do hit the moment and all of the echos back through time.
To answer the question, "Are you rockers or mods," John said, "Actually, we're mockers."
Georgy Girl indeed.
Star for that one.
Thank you James for stopping by and commenting on The Last Fly of Summer. I think Molly would've liked it too!