AT THE DELI

At the Deli counter
there was an encounter
with a Beat poet
who sat down
in shirtsleeves
all in heat
and hid under his menu
silently reading a BZ poem
of the Seventies
having a salami
sandwich
as his first course
the waiter asked him
for a contribution
to the winter Olympics
from his earlier memory
of his Norse named
son Arvid
who did not survive
a rugby game at Harvard
for which he replied
and complied
of course.