grandpa tayek

now he waits in a wheelchair for breakfast
beside a stranger
grandma on the highway somewhere
35 miles per hour
15 in snow
to feed him
read the paper out loud
weather hog prices basketball those who died last night in the county
a sigh
between the lines
before she takes a comb from her handbag
refurrows the five or six left

my mother remembers him differently
a warrior wading into his pigs
heaving a few on their side
just to impress soda pop with a straw buyers
crushing a few cool ones after
how good the taste
of being alive

I remember the time in a fishing boat
on the mississippi
grandpa greasy tractor cap pulled low over his eyes
three lines out the back
me one eye closed -- scared of a little night crawler
one line on a bobber out the front

we caught 138 fish that day
bluegills mostly

cruising in to dock in the twilight
fishermen called out from all sides
bitin’ for you t’day, don?
to every one
grandpa called back
no luck today no luck
a twinkle ending in a wink
then another

and we giggled together under the wheeze of the motor
the cricket moon
how good the taste
of being alive