GRANDPA IN THE GARDEN
AFTER THE 5TH GRADE FIELD TRIP
Grandpa's not the sheriff
anymore, but he's still grandpa.
He faces the Japanese Black Pine
in the clay pot, formal, upright.
He doesn't feel old, walking
the yard, but he nods to the candles
on his upcoming birthday cake.
Grandpa wasn't a real sheriff.
He was never elected.
He called himself
Sheriff of Three Corners,
walking Bell Avenue
with his rake in that old
Mexican campesino hat
from Michoacán, slowing
traffic and talking with kids
coming home from school.
Where he lives now,
there's no traffic, not many kids,
but lots of Republicans.
He wears overalls. Cigars
are gone, but there's swagger,
and those bumper stickers
on his tiny car, women promising
a tsunami in November.
Jim Bodeen
12 June 2018
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