Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
I Miss Kosher Sam’s
Wish I could remember what
street it was on
It’s been so long ago, when
Kosher Sam’s
Was my coffee shop, and I was
young
One day I also ordered a
slice of cake
The cheerful waitress asked
me how it tasted
I suggested that maybe it was
a little bit dry
She grabbed it up and rushed
it to the kitchen
She and another waitress and
The Sam Himself
They took clean forks and
tasted and talked about it
They took more forks and
tasted and talked again
And appeared to come to a mishpat
at last
Sam brought to me what was
left of the cake
“There’s nothing wrong with
this,” he firmly ruled
I took and ate (tho’ it
really was a little dry)
On an evil day I left San
Diego
I wish I’d stopped to say
goodbye to Kosher Sam’s
