Homer's (the blind man's) poetry as seen by the waiter

"Iliad XI"
 

  :-()-:

Deborah
(deification of our own nature)

...he used to come here often
at Jetty Road.

One of these old flames,
was no one less than Deborah.

He saw her just the other day:

After getting a book on D base in
the library he went to see her.

He clearly recalled heading up
Carmel Hill but not in reverse
like Steinbeck said he did — and No!
— he was not going frogging either.

Database functions start with the letter D.
Just like date.
Deborah always was a good date.

"But a data base?" She might
have been the gossip column
of the local newspaper
which was owned by an out-of-towner.

But she wasn't. And hundreds of addresses
we better don't mention, otherwise
such would have been enough to
call her a D-base.

Databases had to be formated, the
first row had to contain a different format,
such as BOLD.

To locate a record in
a database using a data form, he
aimed his mouse on Data>Form>
locate Fieldname > Scroll bar.

The command buttons to help
searching New/Del/Find Prev./Find
Next/Criteria/Close/Help
came in handy.

Deborah was now a sales lady at a
candle-shop in Carmel proper; he
remembered her from La Ida Cafe
not from Steinbeck's days but Kalisa's.
Deborah always was bold.

Back then she was a teller,
banking was her day-time job
waiting at nights was a secondary
thingy she did and not only
on tables.

She liked the fancy
dancing on any flat surface.
Deborah was a social climber too.
She could climb the stiffest
tower, she climbed Coit often.

Deborah had climbed onto, curb-side,
table-side, from side to side.
As long as the bar owner did
not eighty-six her, as it happened
on occasion.

From Halfmoon Bay to Big Sur,
she was very popular.

Good-Old-George
he knew, therefore called her
a social climber and his
red-wood-slab-tables near the river
in Big Sur, bore marks
her fingernails had left.

One by twos were commonly used,
six red neck milled inches of soft
wood, nailed leaning against
the wall, a perfect picture.

Panels were common too - not any more -
scars on rough red wood heart
1 by 12 tell:
Of banging filling the air.

In the men's room
across the patio.Fancy
wood carvings described
Deborah's qualities, intentions and
vital statistics in
lieu of a phone number
which she did not have.

The most unusual spot one
found her initials was inside a kitchen
cabinet in one of the cottages on
the other side of the highway,
inscribed with a Bowie knife
by several bikers
from the big city down south.
Yes...
...the story was that Deborah single
handed had turned more than one bunch of
frustrated mean men into happy campers.
...the legend was that Deborah had led
armies of men into battle.
 

...Jazz...