Sunset Memories
The sunset came early this day,
As the sun dipped into the Pacific Ocean,
The splashing colors were red, orange, yellow, and crimson,
Reminding me of watching my bobber while fishing on a lazy day,
As a big catfish slowly pulled it down.
Grandpa had been alive then,
He would come down to the fishing hole and watch,
Wearing his straw hat and pants that had elastic in the waistband,
And were pulled up to almost his nipples.
At one time Grandpa fished with his old cane pole,
A contented face as he caught bass, trout, grouper and perch,
And put them in his bucket,
For Grandma to fry up later with a side dish of coleslaw,
Until she stopped making coleslaw,
Because it gave Grandpa gas,
So we would eat the fish with just bread,
The days were happy then.
Sometimes after dinner they would put the record player on,
Playing big band boogie-woogie music,
And Grandma and Grandpa would dance fast dances,
One night Grandpa said he was getting too old to dance,
Grandma said Jack LaLanne was about ninety,
And he would still swim across the English Canal or something,
While pulling an aircraft carrier on a rope that he held in his teeth,
So Grandpa had to keep dancing.
But Grandpa did not fish anymore,
He had hurt his back while picking turnips,
When a cow ran into him,
And sat on Grandpa.
Grandma had left us that year,
Up to the great old folks home in the sky,
Where I am sure a nice angel nurse or attendant was taking care of her,
Not like the one at the Mercy Nursing Home,
Who used to drink whiskey and eat Grandma's Jello.
I remember sweet Grandma sitting in her favorite chair,
With the always happy smile on her face,
Knitting, darning, shucking corn, pickling cabbage,
While watching Big Time Wrestling on the television.
Grandma's favorite wrestler was Black Jack Lanza
She used to imitate his moves.
Once she got Grandpa in a Cobra Clutch chokehold
He passed out and had to go to the hospital.
The sun finally dips into the Pacific
Lighting up the underwater now,
So the fish, octopus and turtles can see better,
Watching the motorboats driving over them.
Sent as a joke to poetry.com
