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.