Georgie Pie, I Miss You

Georgie Pie Poem by Jon

There are ghosts in white outfits
They are working the till
There are ghostly pale patrons
they are eating their fill
Eating one dollar pies
Eating one dollar pie
But the dream is long dead
And the ovens are cold
And the grease has been biffed out
And the mince maker sold
Selling one dollar pies
Selling one dollar pies
And the kids that once worked here are now parents, they're old
And the skaters won't skate here, since the
fires are cold
Under broad Waikato skies, on this boulevard
of broken pies.

San Nakji for President!