but he won my grammy

this is how i break—

recalling her stance
at the door of the bedroom,
waiting for me to scrawl out
an address, before pacing
her squeaky white shoes
to the mailbox. the day she
told him: okay, Michael, she
gets it. her experienced
kindness no match for his
repetitiveness: you’re
beautiful, did you know that?
while this boy & i ate
cantaloupe, strawberries,
melon; shyly laughing at
how we were children.
foolish children. over
the phone, “one day
you’ll look back &
wonder what you saw
in him.” followed by
a memory, where she
waited for a man
other than my grandpa
to exit the plane, only
to be led to the conclusion:
what was i thinking. i said,
yeah, trying to envision
someone without the booming
laugh of God, home from a
war or vacation.

FMF Prompt: break. This was written way past 5 minutes. I couldn’t leave the poem at “experienced kindness.” Especially since as soon as I saw the prompt, all of this started talking to me (because memories can talk..) & i’m surprised it lasted through my crazy dreams last night… but, even though, these memories make me feel the sadness just sitting with them, I don’t think this guy could say, “Ah, Lady PlushBottom!” in quite the same overjoyed declaration as my grandpa does. Also, I can’t imagine my grandpa with long hair…  I remember the weirdest details of my life at the oddest times..

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