Ode to My Grandparents

I can’t remember the first time I visited

New York City.

Every year around the time of turkeys

My family would travel to the great white north

For family tradition of making place cards with old crayons left from a time before I existed

We would navigate to the city for lavish parties

filled with people from all walks of life.

To me New York City is a place where fancy people come to have fancy parties.

The first time I had caviar was in New York City.

The salt hitting my tongue

and my face contorting from the delicacy of pasteurized fish eggs

will always remind me of New York City.

Once my dad was mistaken for a famous person.

He stepped out of the limousine

and a tourist took his picture.

He smiled

of course

and continued on.

That is what New York City does.

It helps you transform into the person you always wanted to be.

0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

the first time I ever tried bittersweet chocolate.

I was soulmates with chocolate. Eating the rich dark brown sweet until my stomach became angry with me. One afternoon my father was baking a chocolate soufflé that required bittersweet chocolate. I ha

Laugh

It's been so long since I've laughed, I have forgotten how. My cat is a toddler playing with his toy learning how his body works. I laugh at his clumsiness and worry I am taking up too much space. B

Swamp

The nights haunt me. Every other night is a horror movie, with me trying to be the final girl to survive in the end. I wouldn't call them dreams, but they aren't nightmares either, They are slightly a

©2019 by Chaotically Small Poetry. Proudly created with Wix.com