My Grandaddy
my
grandaddy's drunk
again
the smell of
rum on his breath
he nods off in front
disgruntled,
an artful delay of his death.
my grandaddy bemoans
the state of the world
and blames it all on,
us yankees.
he asks to the air
oh why oh why
must mickey mouse
come & save us?
can't he just leave
us alone
take his ass home
& deliberately forsake us?
see, my grandaddy's stubborn
( but not always drunk)
knows deception when
he sees it,
because no matter how shiny
and no matter how new
it all still seems
to be that same old
colonial
point
of
view.
