GARBAGE NIGHT
Are the stars out tonight?
Too cloudy. I've put out
Scott's valentine plant
giving it just the right
spritz of rain this evening.
Saddened, I must tell you
that Sandy Wood the voice
of what to look for in the
sky, has retired. A quirk in
that musical lilting voice
of hers mandated the change.
I'd imagined, when she spoke,
her lounging about in yellow
silk pyjamas, drinking green tea
from a demi-tasse.
As I drove home from Giant
I passed houses on my street
whose recyclables were loaded
with empty cartons.
Quickly I put my own items
away, including a Starbucks
cuppa java, and raced back out.
Rainlets dropped as I loped
down the street. Who cares
if I gets wet. I'm not gonna
melt and my purple hair has
already lost its lustre.
What do they eat in their
homes with young children.
Raisin Bran pokes out, bold
as a gondolier in Venice.
Gallon jugs of milk. Ah,
I remember milk for my then
little darlings, were they
Sarah and Dan?
And the adults? Boxes of pizza
whose smell lingers and beer
of all sorts fit to burst
your belly.
Scott Kelly the astronaut
is on TV upstairs. Jovial,
tossing off difficult things
as not a big deal, I shall
take my Raisin Bran - if only
I had some, upstairs to watch.
*
Ellen was kind enuf to pick me up to whoosh me through the secret roads to get me to her house off Byberry Road.
There was Mom, Mommy, Ma - as I usually call her - sitting at the head of the kitchen table. Guess who visited? Tyler, an Orthodox Jew for several years, his son David, four, who didn't attack me when I walked in. His mom is teaching chess at home in New Jersey.
I know how to play, said David. Want me to teach you?
Not today, I blubbered.
We ate loads of cheese n crackers. Can there be anything better?
The cheese is from SHEEP. No wonder my belly kept bah-ing.
Mom got many cards, including mine. I'd given it two days to arrive.
Her friend Lenore called from Aurora Ohio.
You mean she hasn't died yet? I thought.
Don't laff. Her husband changed seemingly overnight.
Dementia.
Got a wonderful grant in the mail.
Altho I was exhausted, I ate breakfast, read and slept a little and then wrote what I considered a splendid thank-you letter for the five grand.
Sent the check to my bank. Was gonna drive to the PO but then Dante showed up, so I gave them to him, not mentioning what they were.
WAKING UP AFTER MY 97th YEAR
I pinch myself when I awake
Still here. Is this who I am now?
Legs that hurt when I move.
Belly that loves to eat. Best years
back in Camp Lejeune where Ruthie
was born and Harold got pneumonia
who believed he was rowing toward home.
What shall I bake today? Chocolate
brownies, walnut sticks, gefilte kraut?
Or meatloaf with Hunt's tomato sauce.
The days of the Now and Then Shop
have passed, merchants like so many
Jews when they first came over.
But the nuts stick in your teeth so I
won't eat any, or not too many,
and Nikki drives a long way to see
GG, as she calls me.
Lucky! So lucky. What's 97?
The best day of my life.
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