Meeting your Mother

I met my neighbor's mother yesterday. It was quite an experience.

I met your mother yesterday

I was on my way out the door

standing on the front porch,

about to walk down the street for some Chinese

when confronted by this woman who comes barreling

down our walk way, she looked Scottish

or like a Scotch drinker, (your pick)

she had wild red hair and stubby stance,

a cigarette front and center of her mouth

and her hands and arms full to length of groceries.

 

As she was obviously an older woman,

I offered help and as if to answer,

she puffed in,

And puffed in ,

And Puffed In

AND PUFFED IN this cigarette with great force,

and with the same amount of effort she SPAT it  out,

the cigarette flying onto my front lawn like a dart,

stating,  "No thanks, I just needed to get that outta my face!" 

 

Then she plowed up the stairs to your apartment,

disappearing from sight. 

 

Reviews

[Alessander]

I like how you don't leave it as "she looked like a Scottish woman" and continue giviing the reader a vivid description of her. Now I'm scared of Scottish women! lol This reads like a good character description in a novel, and I like how it really doesn't have an obvious point, but simply acts like a potrait for the art goer to ponder.

The ending "Apples/Trees, man" seems like an inside reference that detracts from the poem, imo. I'm almost tempted to suggest you end it after she speaks, almost.

[Ed Hart]

Yeah, when we were kids, she'd get 'em in the ashtray from clear across the room.