For the atto quinto of this series on being creative in high school, I have a poem about fog and an epic ballad. Those, as far as I can remember, were literally the assignments: write a poem about fog and write a ballad or an ode. The second poem may need a bit of context for the uninitiated, but it is otherwise true pretty much word for word.
Obscuring my field of view
Is a huge, misty blanket of dew.
I can’t see where I go
But I still seem to know
My unseen destination is you
[teacher’s comment: “Huh? limerick?]
Ballad of Lyon’s
On the closing of the last known Lyon’s Restaurant
I went out one day to breakfast
Instead of staying home
I met a lot of friends there;
A lot of kids I’d known.
We laughed and talked together,
We talked of school and fun.
And each of us refused to leave
Until we all were done.
We all ordered the Pyramid,
A mere two ninety-nine.
And when the eggs and waffles came,
We all began to dine.
The bacon was delicious,
The juice was cold as ice,
the strawberries were iffy,
But the rest of it was nice.
When it came time to pay our tab,
We put our money down.
We left, but only after eating
The last of the hashed browns.
We left that Lyon’s full that day
Unaware of the fact
That it would be our last breakfast there;
We’d not be coming back.
That Lyon’s closed within the week.
Its business couldn’t last.
It was bought out by Denny’s,
A chain that’s growing fast.
So no more three dollar breakfasts,
No more bacon, no more toast.
We’ll never eat again there,
For our Lyon’s has been closed.
There’s nothing left to say now.
Instead I simply want
To recognize the death of
The Last Great American Restaurant.