Ye old jukebox - Poem: Singing for Mommy

  What would you think if one of these was sitting atop your table at the diner?

I'd think, Where are my quarters, so I can pick out three songs.

What songs would YOU pick?



John Glenn has just died at age 95. He was a good man. A kind man. A warrior and an astronaut. Wiki will tell you more about him


 He was a Democratic Senator from Ohio. Ed Harris played him in the film THE RIGHT STUFF.

At age 77, he returned to space. He also had a brief stint at president of Royal Crown Cola.

One wonders, Could he stomach the drink? 

Was thinking about sharing his death on FB and then thought, You are not a slave to FB.

Hold on, lemme just peek and see if anyone liked today's poem. 

Just came home from visiting Mom. Am gonna write a poem about her in a moment.

Since I was all bundled up I took a walk around the block. If you have diabetes like me, you check your sugar first - 100 - and then walk, with a protein bar in your pocket.

Came home and KNEW I was low. 52. Ate half of my fresh fruit I bought for $1 off at the Giant. Blubberies, strawberries, and fresh Mango, which used to be my favorite fruit before I got the disease.

Had to make sure the yellow mango was not a yellow piece of pineapple, which when I was a kid made my throat close up. Anaphilactic shock. I try to remember all these words to cleanse out the pipes of my brain.

What brain?

You've gotta eat when you're low. So I ate this siggi's yogurt, pineapple spice. Flavorless! 

Mental note: never buy it again. DUH! (My new favorite word)

Brown Cow and Chobani are fine.

SINGING FOR MOMMY

Climbed up the stairs to her bedroom
where she sat daintily covered by
the crazyquilt wool blanket.

I've just eaten at Panera's, I told her.
Had a hankering for cranberry sauce
and ordered their Thanksgiving special
squooshed onto a flatbread sandwich

I'm doing better, she said, after her
latest fall. Her tailbone broke.
Did she feel it snap like when
she was a kid, eighty-some
years ago, snapping the wishbone
from the turkey with a cr-rack!

I'd never sung a solo for Mommy
Felt a little nervous as I've only
been a mezzo-soprano for
a day now.

Puffing out my chest like a
bagpipe, then pulling it
in, I began, standing
beside her walker.

(Snapping of fingers)

From the diaphragm now

I don't know if we're in a garden
or on a crowded avenue
(Mom joins in)
You are here
and so am I
maybe millions of people
go by, but they all disappear
from VIEW

She's shocked by my high
voice. And I only have eyes
for you.

All about her are the
paraphernalia of the
elderly, not that 94 is
old, you know. She's looking for
Daddy's discharge papers
from the Marines and cannot
find them anywhere.

My mind isn't working, she said.
Of course it's not, I reply,
choosing my words carefully.

You're in an opiate fog
with some lesser analgesics
thrown in and your body,
not that 94 is all that old,
is still reeling from the fall.

We look at one another.
She's still pretty, think.
In fact, I say,
say, You're turning into Daddy
each and every day.