Requiem for "Bunny" Giambastino  (revised from an earlier, rather tepid account)

––it was only yesterday that Hank Casper at the Esso station

oiled and lubed my cousin Paul Pieroni's heavy, slow rolling

"Kustomrama", and I hit out for the Massachusetts coast

behind the wheel of the nearly impossible to steer, Oldsmobile.

I wanted to engage the seals galumphing toward the shore line

at Herring Cove as Pieroni's worn copy of "Wink" magazine

was laying on the backseat looking real good, but not nearly as enticing

as the imagery of the living "Bunny" Giambastino, hot from

"Jesus and Mary Academy", a proving ground for Catholic schoolgirls

searching for a truer meaning of life. 

––on the benchseat behind the massive steering wheel, I ate a creamy

peanut butter and seedless raspberry jam sandwich

pulled from a brown paper bag as the great white sharks

off the coast of Herring Cove, feasted on succulent harbor seal meat,

and as I witnessed the carnage through the agitation of the North Atlantic

feeding frenzy, I fantasized over what it might be “Bunny” Giambastino

was having for lunch.