The NannyA Poem by ggephart
“Alright, runt. Let's get your little a*s dried off,” she says from the lid of the toilet as she puts her cigarette out on the head of the floating rubber ducky.
For breakfast she makes us a pile of fluffy brown pancakes and covers them in sticky syrup, even though my father says sugar is a gateway drug.
At the park she kicks the pigeons that get too near. “They got more germs on 'em than the bathroom door at O'Neil's Pub.”
A telemarketer calls while we are playing Monopoly and she says some words, that when I repeat later, cause my mother's knees to buckle.
My father calls her a “firecracker.” My mother calls her “uncouth.” She calls herself a “free thinker.” I call her mama sometimes but she says I should quit.
When I grow older I will understand that life didn't go exactly the way she had planned. But for now, we are happy. © 2012 ggephart |
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Added on April 22, 2012 Last Updated on April 22, 2012 Tags: nanny, love, cigarettes, ducks |