People sunbathe on the grass
So everyone
needing to pass
Can get a
good view,
Which they’re
likely to do,
Of, because
of the thongs, lots of ass.
Since this spot
is a park, not a beach,
Such visions
should be out of reach,
But those
choosing to bare
Derrieres do
not care
And would
likely resent those who preach.
Yet I wonder
what pleasure they find
Having
strangers admire their behind.
Even if I
were young,
I would not
be among
Those to
whom such displays are inclined.
Our grandson had a party
To attend
near where we live,
So a place
to stay with Uber rides
Was what we
had to give.
At 12 years
old, Bar Mitzvahs beckon;
He’s a busy
guy.
It’s hard to
understand how fast
The years
are zipping by.
Yet it was
such a treat for us
To have him
come to stay,
For even
just the shortest time
With him can
make our day.
To see the
city through his eyes,
The place
his dad was raised,
Is the part
of nana-ing that leaves me
Happy and
amazed.
The dance recital featured girls
From 3 to
high school age,
With choreography
and costumes
Lighting up
the stage.
Our grandchild
in the hip hop group
Is old
enough to know
The full
routine with all the steps,
Her
confidence a’glow.
The youngest
dancers, oh, so cute,
Came out not
quite prepared.
Should they
be twirling? Maybe not,
But no one
really cared.
Except for
one who stood transfixed,
Like staring
at a wall.
I couldn’t
tell, but maybe
She was
crying through it all.
I wondered
how her parents felt
But I could
surely guess,
Since oftentimes
what we expect
Instead, is
slightly less.
My apartment, this morning, had heat
Which, because it was cold, was a treat.
Though I really must say,
For the middle of May,
It’s a threshold we rarely do meet.
Now the weatherman strangely predicts
That by Tuesday, we’ll be in a fix
Since the weather will - Jeez!
Reach to 90 degrees,
Which means Winter gets no more last licks.
If that happens, I’ll need the A.C.,
For the heat and I do not agree.
Mother Nature, I find,
Cannot make up her mind
So we suffer, to varied degree.
-
The eggplants at the fruit stand
Were on sale
for just a buck.
My husband’s
eggplant-picking rules
Inside my
head were stuck:
You want one
that is firm but light.
I didn’t
question why,
But hefting
two, the heavy one
I therefore
didn’t buy.
It seems I
made the perfect choice,
For, sliced
up very thin,
Then bread-crumb
topped and fried in oil,
The taste
just made me grin.
I’m married
to a man who cooks
And gears
things to my taste.
That eggplant
filled a platter high,
But none
will go to waste.
To think, a
meal with plenty left,
With pasta
on the side,
At a cost of
just a dollar,
Left me more
than gratified.
When a friend’s in Manhattan,
Amid all the
din,
A breakfast
on Broadway’s
The way to
begin.
A place near
the theater
Where she
has to go
Means a
leisurely stroll
Will lead
right to her show.
The food
will pass muster;
The booths
will be large.
The waiters
won’t rush you,
So you’ll be
in charge.
The crowds
won’t be there yet,
If early you
meet,
Making it
much more civil
When
crossing the street.
Then after
your breakfast,
Once she
gets on line,
You’ll
stroll north on Broadway
To Arts and
Design.*
The day’s
just begun,
But your
stomach and heart
Will be filled
with the comfort
This meal
will impart.
*Museum of
Arts and Design
I’ve been eating Dannon coffee yogurt
Oh, so many
years,
So learning
it’s been discontinued
Didn’t quite
bring tears…
But a wave
of disappointment
Since it’s
hard to fathom why
It’s no
longer waiting on the shelves
For
customers to buy.
I Googled it
and found it was
A “marketing
decision,”
A reason
which will surely meet
With clucks
of pure derision.
A number* seeking
feedback
Linked me to
a friendly voice
Who took
down my information
On my lack
of coffee choice.
Maybe if they’re
inundated
With a
thousand calls like mine,
Those in
charge will reconsider
Pulling
coffee from their line.
*877-326-6668
