TERR BEAR
g.a. scheinoha
Koutsky they call him
and he’s a big man
who runs
a rather
small bar
in a smaller
still eyeblink
of a town,
a T in the road
time forgot.
Vitame Vas
a sign just
inside the door
announces,
the only clue
he’s Czech
other than
a bowlful of booyah
or the Bohemian Inn’s
Tuesday menu;
pork with dumplings
and kraut.
Yet ambience
isn’t everything --
he grasps the tongue
far better
than third generation
of immigrant
sons
borne across
on those
canvas sails.
And if
you seek
knowledge
of a certain
polka band,
why then
he has them
all down cold.
