Foiling Poem by The Poet SPIEL

where the bluehair ladies look down their noses
at purplehair kids
the ladies want to know
why don't i come home more often

then tell me how they remember
what a smart polite boy i used to be
and ask
do i have family

oh yes i say with pure delight
that's my paul walking phoebe
down the grassy median for a pee

and do you goodlookin fellas have wifes?
they say

i guess you could say
our phoebe is the lady in our house

then who does the cooking?
they go on

mostly we go out to eat
i say
where the tinfoil comes with the steak —
no extra charge