Bacon fish meat
is the stuff of lore in the mountains
I saw the Captain Lou Albano look-alike
savoring one tiny bite after the other
from his corner table outside Beggar’s
His beard dusted with tumeric
eyes googly with intense reflection
on how wonderful it must have tasted
I sat three tables down
asked for what he was having
but the hunched old lady leaned in
and said that he had gotten the only bacon fish of the day
I ordered blackened Tilapia instead
and mused over purple soda as the sun bent into an oval
and dug into the blue hills