He showed up for his wedding with a moustache hanging below his nose,
and down the isle he dragged behind him a fridge
which contained the finest cuts of meat, salami, prosciutto, bresaola
all imported from a Milanese butcher
he once wrestled during the war.
His bride was late,
a punctured tire?
the sound of bells
or cannon fire?
The church was not the oldest thing in the village, “Old man” Mendelssohn owned that title,
and he sat in a chair sucking down air
dispensed from a metal
He stood at the front of the church,
chewing on a slice of meat and his memory strayed
to childhood days
of swinging from trees with Lucien.
His bride arrived late and the
twins arrived 9 months later,
on time and looking nothing like
their “father”, cept for the