grandparents

eyes closed

dust lingers

on the television set

featuring the same channel

since 1995.

chlorine drips

from wooden birdhouses

as we’re eaten alive

by mosquitoes

attracted to 

blueberry cobbler.

comb back 

invisible strands.

treadmill covered 

by boxes.

another day,

another dollar.

carpeted steps.

windows 

made of sunlight

when alarm clocks 

chime.

train sets 

and bunk beds

like warm blankets 

and tables 

occupied by ink.

steam flows through 

the crack under the door. 

rocking chair creaks

while we see

sheriffs and deputies

and a redhead 

at a chocolate factory.

pain 

turns to 

old memories.

beep beep

hello cowboy

balloons on overtime

as life 

slows down 

for a little while.

pictures 

on the wall.

show you off

to second best.

love you eternally.