The Millenium Falcon and Giant St. Bernards 1978

We saw Star Wars at the Robin outdoor theater in Rockford in 1977. I have to be honest and admit I can’t be sure if I went to sleep in the car or not. What I do remember vividly is how badly I wanted the Millenium Falcon toy in the Sear’s Christmas catalog. I may have even asked, but it’s more than likely I knew the $27.00 price made it an impossible dream. I didn’t get the Millenium Falcon that year. I did get the land cruiser and moved on.

The next year over Christmas holiday I went with my grandmother to her work at a local meat processing plant owned by a family farmer. It was winter and I remember several huge St. Bernards patrolled the farm and in general weren’t terribly friendly. Anyway, while my grandmother shaved meat from bones with her crippled hands I played with the boy who lived there. It had snowed and I remember his mother warning him to steer clear of the water. I had never been there before so I had no way of knowing where the snow was covering the lake. But he should have. He fell through the ice and began to sink. Fortunately I must have been on either solid ground or a strong patch of ice because I reached in and pulled him out. We were both frozen and went to his house.

When we entered the basement den I saw every toy ever made. Every toy I’d seen on Saturday morning cartoons. Everything my heart had ever longed for. Can you believe in a moment like this what ran through my brain was that it would be nice if they offered me the Millenium Falcon for pulling their son out of the frozen water?

I’ve never seen him except that one day in my life. I sometimes wonder if I did save his life. This poem has almost nothing to do with that actual event.

ImageThe Millenium Falcon

Poetry is the land cruiser
When you wanted
The Millenium Falcon

The A/V girl
When you wanted
The cheerleader

Poetry is a broom closet
At the Ritz

A Swiss Army Knife
In a nuclear showdown

Being given Tinker Toys
And asked to build Paris

Poetry is half
A loaf of moldy
Bread and enough
Peanut butter to
Last the night

Which is to say
It is everything.


About Zombie Logic

I am an Outsider Poet and the Publisher of Zombie Logic Press.
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