Papéré en Ville
If you pass Grandaddyon the street
you'll turn your head
wondering how a man
leaves home
looking like he does
Skinny mullet, he is
thin as string beans in patate gumbo
--all marrow no meat
Pants are hitched up by an old leather belt
and sharp hip bones
His teeth are brown and jammed together
Hands are crooked, fingers stained
He drinks cheap liquor till his liver quits
Chain smokes without a filter
and sups instant coffee
black as the soles of his feet
after a long day
It takes a king-sized spoon
to empty that jar of chicory
the way he does
Life's full of big things
Grandaddy says
but you can't be afraid to use them.
They just big, is all they is.
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