Going to Mothers House

Going to Mothers House

The sound of birds singing
the roaring or cars passing
we stopped by the corner store
for drinks and chips

It’s Saturday, driving to mamas, house
Randolph (16) (6’2’’) choking on pork rinds
hot barbeque flavor, his dad takes them away
even snatching the bag as he reaches for more

The long ride to the countryside
we pass my old high school
where the junior higher proudly cheer
and the academy for the school fighters disciplines

Almost there, I notice the house
I spent my teenage years glorious days meeting boys
the bus stop at our lane hold fond memories
of book bags and sleepy eyes keeping watch

The neighbors older and wiser
some I remember has pass, while others live
being cared for by their children
while holding on, to their inheritance

We are here at the green singlewide trailer
where my parents live, their first piece of land
with my1985 uncle’s blue celebrity
parked in the yard, my sentimental dad owns

A nice visit reminiscing about the past
laughing joking about the crazy days
when I first left home for Pennsylvania
and my grandma died that summer

Dad was there when you needed him
sending money by western union,
I rode the greyhound and sleep in the bus terminal,
turned 21 that year, starting a new life away from home

From mama’s house to
a friend’s party, good association,
a typical Saturday out
writing poems, surfing NeoPoet