Tuesday, November 22, 2016

I WAS TEN

I WAS TEN

I was ten. The meal completed
Some two score and more of relatives
sat back in their chairs, comatose.
The table was cleared, 

the turkey carcass in the soup pot, 
salt and luck poured onto the spilled wine lakes  
that bled out on mended Irish linen cloths.
The cutlery and cut glass sang staccato arias
in the kitchen. Stacks of dessert plates

clattered leaned in wild abandon. 
The teakettle screamed out its siren call.
Amber whiskey sloshed into cups and mugs.
I waited in eager anticipation
for the entrance of the cake
that I surely knew was mine... 

Would it be chocolate?
Please let it be chocolate 

with chocolate frosting.
Not mint. Real frosting.
But they brought in the pies.
No cake, no candles. Pumpkin pies.
I was ten. I combusted into tears.
My mother slapped her forehead
saying, OhmyGod, it's her birthday.
Everyone cooing, we'll make it up

at Christmas. Never happened. 
Story of my life.

11/22/2016 
Bay Area Generations #42
2/2017




I was ten. The meal completed-2 score and more of relatives sat back in their chairs, comatose. The table was cleared. The cutlery and crystal sang staccato arias in the kitchen. I waited in anticipation for the entrance of the cake that I surely knew was mine...they brought in the pie. No cake, no candles. Pie. I burst into tears. My mother slapped her forehead. OMG, it's her birthday.

Story of my life.

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