The trek took many boroughs
several transfers
and a couple of bucks
but the donut shop on Continental was the best
and the most rewarding jelly-filleds
were just waiting to be plucked
from the counter girl’s hands.

It was worth it
occasionally
to head out to the middle of Queens
to feast like kings
on fried dough and jam
and cream
and the occasional glaze.

The sugar rush left you dazed,
confused
but tried and true.

It was hard to leave the shop
and return to Manhattan life.

But return we did
and my last trip there
was decades ago
and just now
I learned how long
the shop’s been gone.

I was not dedicated,
Carmello’s.
I was not faithful.
I found easier holes to fill my void
and left you hanging in the wind
like those plain cake donuts
that nobody wanted.

I haven’t missed you in years.

I miss you today
and feel
completely empty.