Sunday, May 13, 2018

That Day


Walking last night past a city bodega around about nine
I was dazed at the sight of a long, cheerful customer line
.
wrapped around its street corner. Couldn’t fathom or gauge
what these sweet friendly people of every persuasion and age
.
were all waiting to buy. What were the lures, the engagements?
"What's up?" I asked. "Oh God! The flower arrangements!"
.
A Mexican florist had managed to spew this miraculous rout
of inventively beautiful blooms. Why? (Oh Guy.) I figured it out -
.
and needlessly shouted to all in the queue: "Aha! Mothers' Day!"
They did not cry "Yay!" in reply, but sparkled on cue at the way
.
I at last had come to. (My mom, her two boys and her spouse
had convened for five decades endowing the Kettelhack house
.
with their versions of how most Americans choose to take part
in the requisite holidays. But Mother's Day: that day had heart.)
.
.
.

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