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by Darren Anderson
When Grandpa Drops By
Enter stage right,
a man with tinsel hair,
facial lines
grooved by age.
Coins jingle in his pocket
from a habitual flicker of fingers.
Brown loafers swish
as this audience of one
watches in theater shadows.
Act one, scene two.
My subconscious self
dressed in a shroud of joy
expresses pantomime confusion
over grandpa's visit.
Dramatic conventions stir
as two actors grasp
a closed eyed embrace
on this dusty platform.
A place where words are useless
and actions are skeleton keys
to those empty rooms in the heart.
Finale,
it is always such a
short play.
His spotted hand
rattles the front door open,
stepping towards his home
on the other side.
Blackout.
Maybe tomorrow night
I can stay asleep
long enough
to have coffee with him.
Copyright © 2002 Nuvein Magazine.
