Victor P. Gendrano, US

 

 

Tanka   my neighbor mows the grassy edges of my unkempt lawn in the shade I try to write this friendship poem     his tears roll down their love tattoo on her still breast his macho facade only skin deep     she invited me to lunch at her favorite restaurant midway in our dessert the old widow whispered can I be your sweetheart?     she forbade me to see her anymore but failed to mention her wayward husband just returned home     in cane or wheelchair they sing at the karaoke in the hospice center for brief magical moments they’re Sinatra or Doris Day