His quickness

He’d write out his prediction of
our decision and put it in that drawer
there in an envelope—After months of
discussion we’d finally decide what to do—
Then he’d take out what he’d written,  
read it out, and there it’d be—just
what we concluded, specifically

The death of his parents and brothers

His quickness in decision,
his adventurous intellect—all gone
If he’d shown it to us first we may
have rejected it out of hand and
he’d have to fight bitterly to
get it done—This way we all
decided, guided collegially together 

hardened more an already hard man

Oh yes, grandma was wily—
She’d play the decrepit old lady
to the hilt, with humor, wit and
sadness to spare—She had all of
Passaic looking out for her
from the mailman to the librarian
She hated escalators and older now

Love is just like a river

myself, I know why—She was never
quite sure whether those old legs would
get her on the moving steps on time
Fifty-four years ago I was a camp
counselor at a day camp and became 
friends with one of the other counselors
who got on with the kids much better than I

“Hey, who died and made you boss?”

She complained to me because I used
to her, “Too many big words”
Yesterday, I dreamt I dined with the dead
How wise they all were and yet I was,
you guessed it, the life of the party
One politician won’t be coming back—He’s
too pinched of heart and cramped in spirit

We held the keys to paradise

After dad died and mom, a psychology
professor, was busy teaching, Marie, our
housekeeper would make us dinner—When
it became time for dessert Matt would
always say “Marie, Marie bring on the
dancing girls” Your so-called outrage is
cheap and fake, you slithering snake 

She threw them down

I told her all about the river
where all poems come from and
how I go there, dip my dipper in
and sing to myself in the dark—  
She lays next to me expectantly and
we’re together as she welcomes
me, to touch, to touch

and left me defiantly cold

-May 29, 2021-