But why did Aunt Rose
sell such bad-tasting milk?
It could have been the Frigidaire.
Aunt Rose may have been wronged.
The Frigidaire was famous
for its ancient, clanging song,
and how it never would shut tight,
so baloney would take on
a shiny tinge, like dry old men
left in the sun too long.
And why did Aunt Louise give us so many dry Twinkies?
It wasn’t only Twinkies.
It was also softened plums,
flat peaches bruised like ladies’
legs,
a box of old Dum-Dums.
She dropped them off. We ate them
up.
The question now becomes:
Who were those empty children,
with their greed for rot and
crumbs?
And how come we never got to go to the dog races with Uncle
John?
Because adults are always vague:
“We’ll make that trip someday.”
Because our uncle’s slippery past
was undiscussed and grey.
Because old folks would rather
smoke
than gamble with their pay.
Because they tend to up and die.
Now no one bales their hay.
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