My mother is talking and talking to the repairmen.
She concocts elaborate pieces of business and little speeches about trash bags -
You do it just so, and such and such. All day she does this.
I've changed trash bags a few times I tell her.
I don't know if it's the opiates or another sickness come to visit.
Helpfulness is difficult when someone thinks she must tell you how to
Change a trash bag I tell people.
There are medicines now I tell people.
But I am the bad guy.
I should wear a black hat like in an old western movie.
How interesting are our lives! I'm fascinated with just this short insight! Thanks for sharing! Life is beautiful, from lots of angles!
A refined poetic imagination, Holly Gardner. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.
do it just so, and such and such - haha that's what mother is... ;)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My mother is talking and talking to the repairmen business, , trash bags, again and again. yes i understand your situation in which you are dear poet.........u took such a point to write a poem. that is wonderful. sometimes in the so called trivialities we find truth....... thank you dear poet. tony