Wednesday, November 8, 2017
When I was in kindergarten,
My mother managed to save face,
The day I put on my own shoes
And could tie a bow in my lace.
I ran shoeless in Hawaii,
In the summer of ’62.
Neither foot that summer,
Slipped on any kind of shoe.
My senior year had two choices,
The slip-ons worn by boaters,
And the ultimate of style,
Only allowed Bate’s Floaters.
My decades on the farm
Required faux Texas roots…
I squeezed my feet for ten years,
Into Durango square toed boots.
Go figure, now I’m elderly,
With nothing left to lose…
Lame, I appear athletic
Wearing Adidas jogging shoes.
Everything is different,
Nothing’s like it was before…
My thick head of hair and muscles,
Are not visible any more.All the future dreams I had,
Sadly, no longer exist…
If I wrote a crush a message,
I’d get a legal “Cease and desist”.
I remember all the sweet dreams,
When I worked rewarding vocations…
Now I toss and turn all night,
Awaking with various dislocations.
The hips, the knees, the lower back.
Are a source of constant pain…
Chinese buffets are instant comfort,
Though we may never walk again.
Sunday, November 5, 2017
Italians rub garlic on their salad bowl,
Before adding the lettuce and dressing…
Once they discover you love their child,
You become their greatest blessing.
They invite you to family dinners,
Sharing wine bottles on the porch…
They define you as an Italian brother,
Who proudly carries the family torch.
Even after twelve years,
When your love for their child fails…
You are still a part of the family,
And all perks their love avails.
Myself, I think of their child,
With whom I no longer speak…
But now I am part Italian,
And think of them all every week.