A Buck and a Dime

The carnival is in town.
All the junk food trucks, too
— elephant ears, fat balls
Italian beef and sausage
from which to choose.
At the sausage I did gaze
and I was taken back in time
to my adolescent days
and a sausage sandwich
for a buck and a dime —
no onions please,
but don’t forget the peppers
and that delicious bun to squeeze.
And so, I caved
and bought the Italian
sausage sandwich I craved.
Lord, have mercy, how time flies.
The sandwich was five bucks
without fries.
They held the onion,
loaded it with peppers.
I watched the juice soak through the bun.
I turned and asked my wife
if she wanted one.
“No, dear,
you can have all the fun.”
I took a bite
and to my high school time
I had a flight.
“Hey, kid, that will be a buck and a dime.”
A little short on change,
I asked, “Hey, buddy, could you spare a dime?”
My buddy said, “Just this one time.”
So, I got the dime
and they cut the sandwich in two.
I said to my buddy,
“Half’s for you.”
He didn’t hesitate
in taking that sausage with peppers, too
and said,
“You can have a dime anytime.”
Just then it started to rain
and my wife tapped at my trench.
“Let’s go before you’ll
be looking for a root beer float
and we get drenched.”

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