Tales Of The Old Town (Part 05) Poem by Kim Barney

I only heard my grandma swear
when she was playing Rook.
If someone trumped her number one,
then that was all it took.

My grandma had some widow friends
who played Rook every week.
Kids were allowed to watch sometimes,
but not allowed to speak.

Just one of those old widows drove;
she had a funny car,
went everywhere in second gear,
and never drove too far.

Her car was called a Henry J;
gears grinding made us wince.
I'd not seen one like that before
and haven't seen one since.

I tasted pizza the first time
when I had turned thirteen.
I thought it very strange at first,
but now it's just routine.

My sister brought the pizza home.
She said "It grows on you."
We came to find, as weeks went by,
that what she said was true.

I miss the baseball games we had,
although we played on dirt.
There was no grass, but there were rocks,
and sometimes we got hurt.

There also was no outfield fence,
which made the game more fun:
if you were fast and hit it hard,
you MIGHT get a home run!