LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER, LIKE MOTHER LIKE SON
On a chair feeling the cold,
The old woman looks at the bus
Winding up the village road,
And perhaps flatters herself thinking
It is full of people interested in
Her knitting, her amazing cheese,
And her house; after all,
They have come before.
The first time, when she was 20 years old
And her father claimed to have found
A well in the field and that the water there
Was nothing short of miraculous.
Aware that his daughter
Was dreaming of movie stars,
Pointed at a young man escorting his sick aunt:
“I know you love our village,
That you can’t live without your folks,
If Mohammed will not go to the mountain,
The mountain must come to Mohammed.
This is your only chance
To live here with a husband that
Looks like Marlon Brando.”
She remembers for just a
Few long seconds, enough
To warm her heart, the second time,
When she claimed a UFO
Had landed in her field,
Watches the bus cooling its engine
And her son coming down the steps with a wife
Who looks like Brooke Shields.