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Writer's Night at the Tambourine Lounge in DC!


“and a blueberry malt.”

The attendant scooted to the back

of Dick’s Drive-In,

tugged out a ladder

and climbed through a hole in the roof,

cranking out extensions of metal steps,

as she climbed and climbed and climbed,

she put on a raincoat

before she climbed through the clouds,

and an oxygen tank before she climbed more,

and plucked a shiny scoop out of her apron pocket

at the top rung,

and excavated, twisting her wrist,

balancing the contents

on her descent,

she plopped the chunk

into a paper cup

of blueberries,

mixed it up,

so the heaven was still fresh

when my dad

handed it to me with a straw.

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