A Sweet Ev's Snapshot
a poem by Emilee Kilburn
To find the place of old Joy, get lost on 32 miles of scenic byway—
the one right and quiet, cornered in Connecticut.
Pack a taste for lemon whipped-white, cloud-high pie
and the greatest chili money can buy.
Pay attention to the sweet signs:
If it's summer, look for the post office littered leather,
Harley bikes. The patio beside the pond, accessorized.
Kids not in the ice-cream line will be riding the horse-
shaped tire swings; their parents mingling over Riesling
and thin-crust remains.
Come autumn, all the colors, butternut squash pizza,
you'll fall roadside for the smell of sage and mozzarella.
Blow inside with the leaves and sound the doorbell, we'll
take an order anywhere you'd like—we have five kinds of fries.
Peek into the kitchen, spy on the pizza guy. He'll flip a disk
of dough upon request and mumble when in doubt—so says
the placard on his pie-making bench. Get the Monthly Special:
an 18-inch shell of cheese and hand-pureed sauce. Add a topping
or two or five. We'll give you anchovies on the side.
Arrive at 3 PM and head through the dining room doors—PUSH.
Take a swivel-wood seat with the coffee gang as Willie's Roadhouse
plays a bit of Johnny Cash. You can stay for dinner at the table with
the blue heron view, and watch the sun wait on the moon.
If you lose yourself to that country road toward Woodstock, CT,
you'll find joy in the discovery of Sweet Evalina's Stand
—the best place to meet and eat.