Generations Apart Poem by Tom J. Mariani

She was the only
Person I know
Who painted
Interior window trim
In high heels

Helping us now
Get our house ready
For renters
She has always seemed
Dressed up

Even in an apron

Back when I was five
She pretended to count
The chocolate chips
Warning me that there
Wouldn't be enough

To finish the last batch
If I kept sneaking them
I was there to help
Get her the waxed paper
Grease the cookies sheets

And lick the beaters

I just wish
She hadn't
Scraped the bowl
So very hard
With her wooden spoon

There was hardly
Anything left
For me
When she finally
Handed the bowl over

I could barely
See over the counter back then
To know what she was doing
Buzzing around her kitchen
Her high heels clicking