My Nanny's Teeth

were made by my Uncle Bobby

Across the street

From where my other granddad had the taxi stand.

And my Nanny’s teeth?

She leaves them places.

Those teeth of hers.

I’ve found them

Between sofa cushions

And in the candy dish.

She’s just two weeks shy of ninety.

Still running the roads with her friends.

I don’t have a lot of big epic stories to tell about my Nanny.

I haven’t had thirty years of mythologizing her.

Instead?

We’ve shared

Cribbage

And tea

And that

is

Fine by me.