tires

We were standing
under my dripping car
He shook his consternation
won’t last long
he said
increasing my shaken consternation
tread’s almost a gonner
he said
see here?
he said

I looked with consternation
and no comprehension
but wisely
as if I agreed
ah yes
I said
rear end’ll take off on you
you’ll be driving along confident
and you’ll end up in a ditch
he said

I understood such endings
and resolved
to replace the wet dripping tires
with two shiny new sort of porcupiney
ones with those little nubs all over the treads

put them on the front
he said
put the old front ones on back here
he said
safer
he said

I shivered
much like a porcupine
but not so knowledgeably

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cluster

A cluster of grandchildren
three boys
aged one to six
has descended upon our house
with attendant parents
and thickets of pencils
crayons, stitched and cast little toys
paper, musical instruments
diversions, digressions and questions
One we can understand and converse with
except when he speaks Gavotte
the language of the other dimension
he has contacted or invented
The other his brother
we understand during moments of
lucidity, when our brains can tune in
to his strange incessant banter
frustration, curiosity and invention
The third is delightfully imitating conversation
but has not discovered his rosetta stone
into our world
in which he staggers
like a tiny drunken uncle
Gramma listens loves and understands
more than other mortals
but gave up vacuumed like mad
when they went tobogganing
I look forward to their visits like mad
but sigh tearful relief when they leave.

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pizza

tomato and mozzarella cheese
pepperoni slices and anchovies
melted together
and baked
on a huge spun disk
of bread dough
use to be pizza pie

on Fridays
in Toronto after work
in 1961 before we married
Rose and Dennis and Flora and I
would drive down Palmerston Ave
to Toto’s Pizzeria
on Queen Street
run into the beer store
drive back
wolf down everything
and fall asleep
in front of the little
gray and white
TV test pattern
and Rose or Flora would
wake us up before dawn
so Dennis or I would
drive the girls home
because
their mothers would die
or kill them
if they stayed all night.

Last night
I wolfed my way through
two and a half slices
of medium-all-dressed-thin-crust
from Jenna’s on the corner
they know me there
and I get a discount for
walking over to pick it up
Flora and I don’t have to say no anchovies
and we don’t fall asleep right after
and I don’t have to drive Flora home
before dawn
partly because her mother
hasn’t sent any lightning bolts
from her retirement home in the sky
and partly because
sleeping over is pleasantly legal
for couples who have been
married for almost fifty years.

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