I remember chicken white hair
and visiting Denise Foti's Grandma Zayack
in the Polish section of Paterson
after her allergy shots
Denise couldn't drink milk or eat chocolate
and her Grandmother's eyes shot blue lasers
that cut right through my brain
and read my thoughts
about how dirty the streets looked there
compared to home
Those eyes made me embarrassed for thinking
We weren't born when the Doctor became a poet
but Denise had an operation in his hospital
On that rain-glazed Florida road
thirty years later
not even his wheelbarrow couldn't save her
1 comment:
You know this is a million miles from me in space yet it is as familiar as the chain around my neck.
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