i can't eat this meat, it's stringy

it was years ago, but I remember it well.

we went to the West End dinner theater on Duke street,

to see the local theater group's production
of the west side story.

the jets versus the sharks.
who hasn't seen it, or doesn't know many
of the lines by heart.

Puerto Ricans versus the white bread
boys
and girls of the Bronx, or some other
borough of new York city.

leather jackets, stiletto knives,
chains and slicked back hair.
lots of gum chewing.

dinner was served by the performers
in between numbers.
there was a lot of swish going on.
the boys were, well, not quite as menacing
as one would think,
off key,
forgotten lines, impossible to duplicate
the music
and score of leonard Bernstein.

the audience was mostly senior citizens
bused in
from jersey or the eastern shore,
or local
old folk homes. they clapped mildly,
more worried about their
food and drinks.

I remember one man, who was somebody
once upon a time, short
and bald, with a raspy voice who jumped
up in the middle of Maria
and yelled out, I can't eat this meat,
I can't even chew it,
it's stringy, and it's cold too.

to which everyone clapped, but the song
went on. at the break someone brought
him a new plate of meat and mashed
potatoes. I think it was one of the Jets.