Desperate to get out
of your luxury accommodations.
Wishing for Bridge Club days
and youth.

The ones who remain
from those 1940s days
carry their canes and attend
fine luncheons.
They laugh and eat and talk.

You anticipate, look forward with pleasure
to the monthly outings.
So we ride in the limousine
to the country club.
I see precious “other mothers”
who participated in my raising.

You are reminded of what is no more.
On the ride back, you talk bad about
your old best friends.
You want Daddy back and you cry.
You cry and just like every other time,
you say you’ll never go back.

But you will.
You will go back
and I will not.
I’ll call the limo to take
me to Wal-Mart.