POEM - A Ten Year Old Walks into the Liquor Store . . . or Fun at Grandma’s House!

Sometimes, years after it happens

You tell a story

Something innocent and normal

But you get weird looks

Like you are from another planet

At first you defend it

Assure them there are contextual elements

Things you had to be there to understand

But then you listen to what you are saying

Really listen with fresh ears

From their point of view

And then you hear it

Case in point:

            I was talking about grandma’s house

About playing down at the Catholic school

And being sent to Jerry's House of Spirits

            To get treats and candy

She looks at me incredulously

            “Let me get this straight,

                        Your parents would send you

to the liquor store?”

“Sure, they sent us all the time.”

            “How old were you?”

“No, it was OK, we were older

            At least ten or eleven.”

She just rolls her eyes

            I have to think about what I said

We used to go to the liquor store when we were ten

OK, I heard it that time

I see what you mean

“It wasn't like that” I protest

“My grandparents were friends with them.”

            “I bet they were!” she says sarcastically,

            “Best customers do often become friends!”

But I get it

            Things change and evolve

What was no big deal

            Isn't even heard of

Like smoking at work,

Duck and cover

            And kids in the liquor store

All the fun of yesterday washes away

            In a flood of pungent amber

                        And a puff of acrid smoke