Chicken Soup in Hoboken, New Jersey

CHICKEN SOUP IN HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY

walking down Washington Street
in Hoboken, New Jersey
I am childhooded back back
to walks with Grandpa
when being more than 
a few steps from mom
was terrifying

the neighborhood
old then
deteriorated now
is still familiar
but I didn't look for Schoning's
where we used to get
a charlotte rousse

no cans or boxes
for this white-haired
refugee from Ellis Island -
janitor for the building,
she washed and scrubbed
hallways and banisters
swept the courtyard
waited for her family's return

chicken soup with noodles
home-made,
a mainstay at this house -
there was a market next door
the sign said fresh-killed

with a net on her hair
flour on her face
chicken gravy simmering
sweets ready for the kids
she sat warming her feet 
in a cast-iron stove

we never went
into the front parlor
except at Christmas -
we had to wear coats
it was a cold water flat
and only the kitchen was warm
warm from the wood stove
filled with strudel

I had a feeling today
of not belonging...

everyone important is dead
except for an odd assortment
of aunts, uncles and cousins
distant and disinterested
except for Hoboken, New Jersey
we have nothing in common anymore


Barbara Gari, Copyright, 1997