Here we are all clean
and settled in
for an episode of Little House.
I guarantee we teared up together,
despite the deadpan face
below the head scarf
in home movies,
she taught me
how to have a heart
that got straight A's in Caring Class.
With her I've laughed my most aerobic laughter,
bent over the pages of David Sedaris in an empty house on a blow up mattress.
She gave me things
like artistic ability and
calves that in shadows
look the same width as thighs.
She made me clothes on a deadline, staying up late to finish.
I remember the thrill of finding
a white blouse and light blue striped skirt hanging pinned to a hanger
the next day.
She nourished me
with favorites like salmon ring or creamed chipped beef on toast.
To this day the volume of her sneeze surprises me.
Once she jumped rope with me and I laughed at the way her boobs bounced.
She didn't get mad.
She used to tell me my mother was a really good gal,
she'd met her at the grocery store once.
She's been known to get high
I totally get that now,
something about the smell of coniferous trees in the sun.
We laugh at her pronunciation of Queezenos
she calls potential POtential,
and we remember the way,
when we were teenagers finally home for the night,
she would come down to check on us,
her robe clutched around her chin and her face sleepy.
We both hate snakes.
When spontaneous dancing overtakes me (or ANYONE) it is her favorite.
She knows me
both the way she wants to know me
and probably pretty accurately.
She has definitely taken liberties
about my perfection,
but nobody else believes in me
like she does,
so i have jokingly borrowed lyrics,
she's the wind beneath my wings.