Sonnet for Salvadore
Of Salvadore the Celery King I sing. Illiterate in Lewiston, he'd wander, so I'm told, into the ladies' john and, barring ladies, not suspect a thing. But when it came to celery, he was king. And when he died, the Idaho Daily Sun said: Salvadore the Celery King Moves On. The celery hung its head, remembering. Sometimes I think I'll wind down Lewiston Hill (where winding up and winding down's the same except for purpose), enter past the mill and, turning to face the crowd, announce my name: "Gary, son of Dom the son of Salvadore the King, whose throne I've come to claim."
From Turning Sixty by Gary Miranda. Copyright © 2001 by Gary Miranda. Reprinted with permission from Zoland Books, Inc. All rights reserved.