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Sunny's Retro Space


It was retro, man,
I felt I was home, in bed,
Listening to the transistor
Radio, I hid under my pillow,
Too many years ago. Waiting for

“A Blast from the Past!” to be 
Played by Murray, “the ‘K’,” on
His “Swinging Soiree.” But it was 
More like that DJ, who was “The Curly-
Haired Kid In The Third Row.” No, earlier!

Really, it’s retro! Maybe a ‘40’s or 
Even a ‘30’s bar, picked up and transported 
To the tail-end of the Hook, a neighborhood
That’s at the ‘ass-end’ of our fair city,
‘Home Sweet Home,’ Brooklyn, U.S.A.

And I swear, it has those Plaster-of-Paris 
Saints, you know, statues of those long
Ago stars: Gleason, Durante, The Marx
Brothers, Satchmo, Laurel and Hardy.
And the music, they play, wow! From

Yesterday’s yesterday- Holiday, Bing-o
Frankie, you know, stuff like that. And 
I tell you, there’s these three old 
Coffee urns, like my old man had in his
Place, and those were OLD! ‘40’s for sure!

Listen, there’s two large wooden sailing ships
In the front windows, they recall the days when,
Hey! ‘Sunny’s’ isn’t that old! But during World
War II, it probably fed hundreds of shipyard
Workers every day. The old cash register’s there..

It still has a last ‘no sale’ flag showing. Now
Don’t think I’m being gross, but thinking about
The sea, reminds me, the way to the jakes has a 
Sign with an arrow directing you to, “Avenue P.”
Now I really gotta tell you about the backroom
.

The back used to be the kitchen, ‘used to,’ is
Key. They pulled the sink out, and it’s weird!
They left the faucet behind! It just hangs on 
The wall, and when they pulled the grill, the 
Hood was left on the ceiling! And there’s more!

So this guy, Sunny, he got this place
From his old man, or his uncle, or something
Like that, and he turns it into an ‘up’
Hangout for the ‘hood,’ most are artsy-types,
But they need a place to drink and BS too.

Anyhow, I tell you, I get an ‘intro’ there.
From a pal of mine, who has a bar not too far
Away. And I’m like, home, ‘cause Sunny and his
Gal, Tone, (you say it like ‘tuna,’) are real.
He’s a hugger, man! And once he meets you, like

You’re long-lost family, I love it. So I keep 
Going there and hell, I’m like family now. But,
You know, not only the locals know his space, I 
Swear, I keep running into like, foreign girls
There. Like, I mean France, Germans, Swedes.

And sometimes musicians from around the ‘hood
Play folk or bluegrass, and everyone just 
Hangs loose. I tell you, you just gotta make it
Out there with me, ‘cause you won’t find it on 
Your own! I told you, it’s the ass-end of town.


[Published in Pivot 51]