Monday
May 14, 2012
Okay, this is getting a tad silly. Another poem based on an intro to a poem. But it was Mother's Day and I needed to come up with something... and here it is:
Mother’s Day
Sundays were
always a lazy day
around our
house. Dad would lie
on the couch
drinking beer, watching
the Figure
Eight races on TV, nodding
off every now
and then. A single snore
from his open
mouth would wake
him with a
start. He’d take another
sip of beer, wipe his eyes and fall
right back to
sleep without even
noticing that
car 56 had just been
rammed into oblivion
by a Plymouth Fury.
Mom busied
herself in the kitchen. Doing what?
I don't know.
Motherly things, I suppose.
It seems she
was always scurrying about
all day long from
the kitchen sink to the
refrigerator.
Always looking for something
but never
finding whatever it was she kept
looking for.
Me and Brother
Dennis would sit on
the back-porch
listening to Mother
banging
around in the kitchen and
mumbling to
herself.
We never talked
my brother and me.
We just sat
digging into the dirt with
the heels of
our tennis shoes quietly
dreading school
on Monday. We hated
school almost
as much as we hated each other.
And my
sister? She moved out long ago
to our Aunt
Ella and Uncle Ace's ranch
in the high
desert. I never knew exactly
what she was
doing up there so far away
from her
family, her real family. I never
understood my
sister or her moods.
Come to think
of it, I never understood
any of the
women in my life. It’s
probably the
reason why I live alone.
Anyways, it’s
Sunday, Mother’s Day. As I write
this poem I
wonder what my mother’s doing.
Probably
walking to the refrigerator, finally
remembering what
it was she was looking for
all those many
years ago.
rrw o5-13-12
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