To my three year old granddaughter
I am a bubble creature
Fearless, friendly, loving
To my sixteen year old grandson
I am ancient,
Full of idiosyncrasies, mixed
With ridiculous wisdom
To my yuppie son and daughter
I am not so sharp, an old tight, selfish
Hoarder, absent-minded
Flying on his last wings
But to me
A jolly, dreaming, busy body
A bit forgetful, I am
A cosmopolitan interested in
The musicals of Andrew Lloyd Weber,
Mahler at the San Francisco
Symphony
Or Calder’s mobiles defying gravity
Professional football, tennis aces, basketball seven footers
Shapely ladies, scintillation
And conversation are high on the list
Many times of day a surge of
Youth enters my body
I walk, ride my bike,
Drive to casinos and shoot craps
Sit in the eighth row, center, of many plays
Absorb myself in Beethoven to Shostakovich
Join the hefty and brisk dancers at senior dance parties
And listen avidly to live jazz or dance to the disk jockey’s tunes.
Financial advisor, investor,
Supervisor of real estate
Sometimes I am clairvoyant, though
No one listens.
I stay up until 3 AM-sleep
During the day
I plan, dream, contemplate I
Know the now.
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