a small memory by jonathan bracker

Quaffing a medium mug of a Belgian ale
Brewed, the brasserie sign says, since 1240,
What a surprise to have Hutch Hutchinson’s name
Surface in my only slightly befuddled brain!

Hutch whom I have not thought of for a lifetime.
But then, I did not know him well;
Boys together, we were not chums.

Only, once his young parents invited me to dinner.
Goose was served, with which I could not cope,
It being too barnyard a fowl;
I would not try even a forkful.

After that, outside of school we did nothing together.
He was smaller and seemed gentle.
Ah, I remember now – his ears stood out!

I never knew whether his first name
Was nickname or real,
But it said “rabbit house” to me;
I thought him a bunny.

Now that I see him, I see nothing more,
Or almost nothing – just his mother’s shoe
Pressing a buzzer under the table to summon the maid.