Who Bubby?
They fly through the
window
“Who Bubby?”
Oh such lovely young
men
Her voice quiet and sweet
Unraspy, silky smooth
Not the Lucille Ball
Flame haired scarlet lipped
Hellion “Bubby” stopping
by for a quick visit trailing
Channel Number 5 and vitriole
Tales of friends and clubs
Leaving quickly her essence
Clinging to us all like ship-wrecked
Survivors for days
“Who Bubby?”
Oh such lovely young
men
This new disembodied phone
Bubby from her apartment in
the city
“They were here last
night again”
“Who Bubby?”
Those nice people in
the
Long white robes
They stare at my
windows
And clean water
From the roof
It’s dripping down
My windows
But it’s okay
The lovely young men
are here
“Who Bubby?”
A priest, a cop, and a
student
We have sweet tea
And now they are
resting
Sleeping on my bed
She has four locks on her
Apartment door
That swings open
Inside she sits
This newly minted
sweet Bubby
On the edge of her bed
The newspaper
A priest prays over
a covered young man
his graduation picture smiling
a police officer comments
Bubby smiles, her new
Unlipsticked sweet smile
The room smells of chlorax
And a faint waft of urine
Look, she whispers
Out the window construction
paper sheets billow gently floors
down in the recobbled courtyard
They’re gathering
She whispers
Such nice young men
Sleeping here
We sit together for long moments
Watching the people gather
Listening to the gentle patter of rain
Not waking the resting young men
As the windows fill with sunset gold
