So, I posted an old poem on the other blog, "A Personal Story". So, why don't I post one on here too?
Guess I feel lazy today, so why the hell not?
Grandfather's Dentures
My grandfather reaches
with moist fingers
to take out his teeth
and scare my sisters
and me.
Gums and all,
he puts his teeth
in the greasy glass
filled with cloudy water.
He chases us
begging for kisses.
My sisters are
disgusted and scared,
they run away
from the sucking
formless lips,
try to hide.
Not me,
I know those
teeth in the dirty
water aren't real.
Hmm..... I really have no idea what the end means. Well, honestly, sometimes my meaning isn't what it seems. Anyway, that was a poem from 10/12/95. That would have been at Emerson. I forget that old guy, the professor's name. He was something else. Bill....something or other.
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