Granny can’t shell
boiled peanuts no more
but when I strip away the hard shells,
give her my little prizes,
she sure can smack her lips and cry
“Some good!”
I wrote that last week
as she sat at the kitchen table,
toothless and cackling and crazy alive.
Now I crack and peel
my little pile of prizes
for an empty table.
I can’t eat them today without her.
But I still lick my fingers
for that salty tear taste
of some good memories.
Michael Guillebeau has published seven novels and 41 stories, and a few poems.