Tonight's Poet Corner: Grateful

Grateful
by Belinda Roddie

You were grateful when I scooped
half-melted mint chip ice cream into
chipped china bowls inherited from my
materialistic grandmother, savoring the
coagulated dairy within cold, shallow reminders
of a socialite San Francisco, pearls
dripping down the sweaty armpits of
a dame desperate for the time of day
on a business mogul's pocket watch.

When I asked if you wanted seconds, you
shook your head, took my hand, and kissed
the stickiness off my knuckles where
the spoon had slipped and created a green
geyser of sugary sweetness. There was so much
we didn't have - no stocks, no bonds, no savings,
no fancy house with two luxury cars. But we had
semi-solid ice cream, and at this point,
that was worth more than the rubies glued
to my grandmother's frozen fingers six feet
under Golden Gate ground.