And Teem Was Good Pop

It's in the spotlessly clean, time-abandoned kitchen of one of the churches where I attend A.A. meetings.

I'd forgotten this brand of Coke.

Haha. Why don't you laugh, son? That's a regional joke, everyone calls pop "Coke" down south.

"Make My Coke A Teem!"
_____
Except for old model trains, which need to be shiny as the day they were left under the Christmas tree, immaculate relics are, to my vandal eyes, a trifle menacing. Somehow, an afront.

Maybe they don't respect the dead. Perhaps they mock my childish awe of history.

Or, in a church basement, I fear "dust to dust" and I am reminded of what is lost, that used to be common place.

If I'd been watching a Beach Blanket Bingo movie from 1966 and the camera caught that image behind the counter in a soda shop, I'd have been thrilled, and felt more reverence. (yea)

Sometimes there's no explaining what can make me feel hostile. You say "pang". Maybe that's right but it's surprisingly close to pain.

I need to look around and see the present through century old eyes. Learn to love the telephone pole and all the wires criss-crossing our eyes.