Peter Giancarlo, In Memory: A Poem In 5 Parts

This is just a poem in memory of a great man.

 

Peter Giancarlo, In Memory: A Poem In 5 Parts

 

I.

 

Peter Giancarlo

had

blue-tinged

hair, and ate

in the same

corner diner—4 Seasons—

every meal,

every day

for most of his

adult life. A kind

man

of routine

who kept his parents’

room-exactly—

as it had been before

they passed—

decades earlier—

beds made with neat

corners, yellowed

afghans.

Hair pins, ornate trinket

boxes, untouched—

though a bit dusty.

He even had

trouble parting with

his mothers’

hand-stitched

handkerchiefs

of which there were many.

 

II.

 

Peter Giancarlo

was living

nostalgia

neat pleated

trousers, button-down

shirts and great brilliantly

patterned sweaters—

he would have looked

at home—

with a pipe hanging

from his lips—though,

he did not smoke.

With big sad eyes

and a creased

brow—he possessed

a rare Perry Como-esque

old world—

Hollywood charm,

which dripped

from even his

richly-textured

voice.

 

 

 

 

 

III.

 

On a good day

 you could convince

 him to drag out

 the acoustic guitar—

 I feel as if it had

 a name, though,

 if it did, time

 has caused me

 to forget—

As years passed, he

 played less

 until he claimed

 to have forgotten

 all-together.

Still, I, was excited

 to show him

 the sleek black

 B.C. Rich Warlock

 I purchased on my

 16^th birthday.

He smiled and told

 me to practice

 so we could play

 a duet. I never

 did master the

 art of guitar, but

 perhaps he hadn’t

 forgotten to play

 after all.

 

IV.

 

Peter Giancarlo,

ever the crowd

pleaser, spoiled

the children rotten

sneaking them

Maurice-Lenell cookies

while their parents

weren’t looking, though

they would not have

objected, as children

they—the parents—were given the same

special treatment.

Holidays brought gifts

of Hershey’s bars in

distinct decorative tins.

My mother and I both

credit our love of the sweet

confection to our distinguished—

and secretly mischievous—

Uncle Pete. He never

married or had children

of his own, though

he would have made

the perfect

ideal

husband and

father.

 

 

 

V.

 

Peter Giancarlo,

though you would not

suspect,

served his country

in

The Korean War.

He served as

a guard for his

unit’s POW

camp.

I cannot envision

his sleight frame

and generous

nature in a

solemn

military

suit.

So, I choose to

imagine him

doing the

jitterbug

with the

porcelain-faced

women of the

USO.

Though, this

was probably

not

the case.