Taxi Cook (Bob Kabchef, Take 2)

Readers of the last blog post will recall that I tried, and did not quite succeed, to capture my friend and fellow poet Bob Kabchef’s visage on paper. As a portraitist, when I misfire I have a choice: move on, or get back on the horse and try again. It is ALWAYS better to try again, though fear of repeated failure hangs like a wet-sodden cloud over the fragile-egoed creator’s head.

Here is my second try, with a double acrostic inspired by something Bob posted, seeing an early draft of it: “Speaking of chefs….. A lot of folks hesitate when confronted with the challenge of saying my last name – Kabchef. It’s not really that tough. Just think “Cab” and “Chef” Now say them together and you’ve got it. I sometimes tell folks that if TaxiCook is any easier for them, I’ll answer to that too. When my grandad came here to escape WWI, immigration whittled down Kabachieff to Kabchef. We Kabchefs don’t have a fancy Coat of Arms. We’re so poor, our coats don’t even HAVE arms.” That gave me a grin, and “Taxi Cook” it was. The words:

The nations are assembled choc-a-bloc
And Poets wrestle with the Despot–so
Xerography’s recorded–ONE Li Po
Is worth a thousand Xerxes who would mock