Strangers in Peoria

I met a proper woman in a proper pub
on a Monday in Peoria. I was taken by how much
she looked like Jackie after Dallas
but without the pillbox hat.

She was from New York and I was from Chicago
and we were in Peoria for interviews
for jobs we thought we'd get.
But living in Peoria, we thought,
might not be a fit.

The lady was a surgeon recruited by a hospital.
It took a little prompting but finally she said:
'I repair pelvic floors in women.'
She paused to see if I'd react
and when I didn't, she continued.

'If a bladder drops, or a rectum tumbles
or if a womb is full of fibroids,
I'm the surgeon that lady needs to see.

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poem by Donal Mahoney
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Booger McNulty and Me

In 1948 Booger McNulty's coal yard stirred
constant gossip among the citizens who lived
in little bungalows on narrow blocks
in my far corner of Chicago.
That was more than 60 years ago,
a time when families took Sunday walks
and went back home in time to hear
Jack Benny on the radio.
A Sunday walk didn't cost a cent,
a price my parents could afford.

When my parents took a Sunday walk,
my sister and I always had to go along,
and every time we'd pass Booger's place,
I'd hear my mother ask my father
what could possibly be on the other side
of Booger's 10-foot fence.
Hoping to avoid a conversation,
my father always said he didn't know

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poem by Donal Mahoney
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