The old woman wonders
why
He don’t come round to visit her
Much anymore
She sits at her table looking
Out the window at the same
Stucco wall that he played on
When he was twelve years old
Some forty years back in time
Most likely she thinks it’s still
Nineteen sixty-three
She was pretty back then
Now she’s just pretty drunk
Most of the time
Pretty drunk and pretty sad
And that’s what keeps him away
Because it makes him pretty sad
To see her that way
To listen to her telling the same
Old stories over and over
(The same old lies really)
Slurring the words
Saying “honey I wuv you”
It just about kills him to
Admit that they were once close
That’s the real reason he
Never has time to drop by
“I wuv you.”
I know momma, I know.
“I wuv you, too.”
