Paradise
the "Paradise Novelty" store
called: "the joke shop"
on North Main street
astonished with every visit.
inside, one could purchase
fake dog poop which looked
like the real thing, and fake
vomit, called: "puke"
which was so authentic-looking
it seemed to sour the atmosphere.
also on display
were old standards such as
big black rubber spiders,
all kinds of pliable snakes,
stuff resembling bubble gum,
but chewing it would turn
your teeth blue, and your tongue,
sets of Groucho-esque horn-
rimmed frames, perched on long, false noses,
some with mustaches, some without.
(I always opted for the non-mustachioed offering)
also, finger-fitted "shockers"––
the taut-spring mechanics of them, hidden in the palm
of one's hand which would tingle the groins of the prankster
as well as the hand of the recipient, and––
the piéce de résistance: freaky whirlpool-hypnotic
see-through anything "X-Ray Vision" eyeglasses,
and although these miraculous spectacles
were "not guaranteed to perform as advertised,"
mine did,—
and wearing them just before twilight,
I'd sit with my back against the chain-linked fence,
the one on the corner at the right-field line,
quietly observing the young women walking home
from the bakeries in their summer dresses, the warm,
crackling-crusted Italian pane held like buntings in their arms.
Quequechan / c.1952
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