Borsodi's Coffee House on Howe
By P. S. McMullanI own this place—
or it owns me.
Here is where I grew awhile,
stumbling through
the unaware
of this one's style
and paperbound hyperbole
hid within a smile.
Here lies the ghost of LaGalette
while Stiles and stone prevail.
Floorboards bare a cup, a chair
exterior worn pale.
No reading from a further room,
crowded tables, voices, faces
placed between ideal and walls,
steel-string guitar and banjo cases,
espresso steam and talk of war.
Camembert and Grenadine.
Cigarette ashes on the floor.
I turn the knob—
each blade, each sod
and concrete stair
reclaim a part of me.
Not found in deed
of form or site,
still, more the rightful heir.
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Powerhouse Theater Training Company presents 12 Ophelias
Sun., July 23, 7:30-9:30 p.m. and Mon., July 24, 7:30-9:30 p.m. — Powerhouse Theater Training Company will feature 12 Ophelias (A play with broken...
“Tight” Screenprint with Alison Byrnes
Mon., July 24, 9 a.m.-4 p.m. — Through July 28. Use screen-printing as a bridge from painting and illustration,...
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