Wite er wheet er wrie?
When you order breakfast at historic Dave’s Café
In downtown Waukesha
Pam, the harried waitress
Is cordial but hurried
Taking care of the usual crowd,
The hungry needs of her flock,
The downtown denizens and the pensioners
In for a breakfast at a buck ninety-nine
Two eggs, American fries,
Choice of toast:
"Wite er weet er wrie?"
The halt and the lame and the unlamented
Forgotten,
Personae non grata of some real estate
And business prospectors
Dipping pans they wish were unclogged
By these poor customers of Dave’s
Panning the newly returned two-way
And ungazebo-ed stream
Of “unfettered” traffic;
No more park benches there for the dirt-bags
As they were called
By a Five Point entrepreneur
Anxious to be rid of them
And there’s not such a great need now
With the gazebo moved down by the bank
For the cops to stake out that central intersection
Where the fake springhouse water bubbled
And the 'bags' hung out spitting their tobacco
Or other juices;
Not the ambience wanted if ever there will be
Businesses in the old commercial sector
Besides incense stands, tattoo parlors
And joke shops offering fake pools of vomit.
Swank! SWANK is what is dreamed of;
But Dave’s Café, folks,
Get in on a little secret:
Go on in there anyway,
Because for the money or higher,
The food is the best breakfast in town,
And because those clients of Dave’s
Are more real
Than the names showing up in Upper Case,
Tuxedo-ed on the local society page,
And another thing:
They aren’t going to be relocated. No;
That controversial sector is their home,
With or without loitering gazebos,
And Dave’s will always
- or for a long time, one hopes -
serve them their
Wite er weet er wrie.
@$1.99
In downtown Waukesha
Pam, the harried waitress
Is cordial but hurried
Taking care of the usual crowd,
The hungry needs of her flock,
The downtown denizens and the pensioners
In for a breakfast at a buck ninety-nine
Two eggs, American fries,
Choice of toast:
"Wite er weet er wrie?"
The halt and the lame and the unlamented
Forgotten,
Personae non grata of some real estate
And business prospectors
Dipping pans they wish were unclogged
By these poor customers of Dave’s
Panning the newly returned two-way
And ungazebo-ed stream
Of “unfettered” traffic;
No more park benches there for the dirt-bags
As they were called
By a Five Point entrepreneur
Anxious to be rid of them
And there’s not such a great need now
With the gazebo moved down by the bank
For the cops to stake out that central intersection
Where the fake springhouse water bubbled
And the 'bags' hung out spitting their tobacco
Or other juices;
Not the ambience wanted if ever there will be
Businesses in the old commercial sector
Besides incense stands, tattoo parlors
And joke shops offering fake pools of vomit.
Swank! SWANK is what is dreamed of;
But Dave’s Café, folks,
Get in on a little secret:
Go on in there anyway,
Because for the money or higher,
The food is the best breakfast in town,
And because those clients of Dave’s
Are more real
Than the names showing up in Upper Case,
Tuxedo-ed on the local society page,
And another thing:
They aren’t going to be relocated. No;
That controversial sector is their home,
With or without loitering gazebos,
And Dave’s will always
- or for a long time, one hopes -
serve them their
Wite er weet er wrie.
@$1.99
.........
That poem's from 2002. Now the downtown has made huge further strides in its renaissance. Happily we live in the midst of it right across from Dave's, our official meeting place for breakfast with friends. We have but to shuffle across the street. Pam the long-time waitress and all the smoking customers have to sit outside now to partake of their smokes. Pam would love to quit, she say, and is cutting back. In the pleasanter months, the two umbrella tables out front accommodate the smokers. It is preferred that they buy something.
The blend of humanity now populating the downtown in 2011 is perfectly rounded and gratifying.
