I have always wanted one
to fix for me my lunch
in big brown paper sacks.
She hides little treats
in there
for me.
Cookies. Fresh Baked Cookies.
The kind that ooze deliciousness—
and never crumble.
And she puts little love notes
in there
for me,
telling me what a good man
I am—
and how lucky she is
to have me.
She is a good woman
and all my life,
I never found her.
So I have to settle now
for peeled green grapes
in a Snoopy brown thermos—
and a letter from mom
my first day of kindergarten.
That cashew butter sandwich
has sustained me ever since.
Memories of a good woman—
before she began
packing fish spread sandwiches
on rice cakes;
And rusty tin cans of pineapple juice
to wash the grizzle down.
But such a good woman she was—
that first day of kindergarten.
I’m glad I remember her—
because I haven’t met one,
good as she,

written on 01/06/2011 by: Matt Kane