The Neighbors... Poem by RIC BASTASA

we make the most
of what we have: the bottle of red wine
some Italian spaghetti
and tiramisu.

nice talk, silly jokes, some raw rumors,
political statements sometimes, and
some religion, and the talk gets wild,
and the hours went long, and some of
you wanted it till dawn

we make most of what is left of us
and this neighborhood,
for all those children who did not make it at home
for all the grandchildren who went on dorm
for all the other incoming storm
we make most of what is here
old age, memories, new medications,
homesickness and all those sort of things
for old folks to just be happy and survive.