Sunday morning trips to
Grandpa would open his barbershop
For us rag-headed boys who would
Raid him of quarters
And drink up his profits in soda
pop.
Calm, sedate and stalwart was he,
Keenly attuned to each sight, every
sound.
Striding the sidewalks, leaving us
children
Scurrying, trying to cover his ground.
Tall straight-backed rocking chair,
Front porch theater,
Cigarette rolling machine.
Don't disturb grandpa now.
He's much too busy.
Try not to make such a scene.
While granny fries bacon and ham
In the kitchen,
Grandpa has only one goal.
With tobacco and paper,
He sits in his rocker,
And gives a new meaning
To rock and roll.
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