The Stage Deli
by Odin Roark

The Stage Deli’s doors are closed
Leaving only a hand written sign on the glass
“Thanks for 75 years”

Gone are the late nights
When Broadway fun was out of reach for starving thespians
When survival was a hairbreadth’s away from succumbing
When to chow down on the week’s only meal
Was a welcome relief from
White Horse Bar condiment feasts of
Olive, onion, relish and soda cracker survival

After a cheap bar’s affordable one beer
Delivered but a short escape
From the disappointment
The rejections
Only starving actors could appreciate
The Seventh Ave. housed kitchen
Fulfilling hungry Saturday night wishes

What will replace this special eatery
Where the waiters were often more entertaining
Than a new film or Off-Off-Broadway play
Where two inches of roast beef or pastrami on rye
Split with a fellow actor
Was all that we needed
Filling the void for another week of hope
When the sandwich accompanied by pickles to cry for
Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray sodas to smack lips over
Mustard no one else dared serve
Created gastronomical nirvana
For those precious once-a-week hours

The Stage Deli is gone
Long live the memory of cholesterol heaven
Waiting to be relived
Come next week’s Saturday night reverie