by 
In the kitchen
When my grandmother
would come visit us,
she would sit
at the kitchen table
with her can of beer
and bitch
as my mother
snapped green beans
in the sink,
saying,
simply,
“uh huh”
at the appropriate times.
It hardy mattered
as my grandmother
would continue giving up the dirt
on all manners of people
my mother had never met
nor cared about in the slightest.
I suppose
it gave them both
something to do,
if only for a little while.
by 
I can’t wait for Friday’s poem. WTF?
We must be related, your gra’ma is my aunt.
…jonny’s become
so sensitive of late…
with poetry
and a little less hate…
words flow gently
at a different rate…
perhaps because
of his loving mate…
a turn for the good
some would debate…
w/ no more porn
to ingratiate…
but i hope this post
will never deflate…
it’s something to
really appreciate…
to see it gone…
to see it skate…
would bring a tear
that we would hate…
so now i go
it’s getting late…
a video to watch
“two girls & a plate”…
…always loved the rhyming shit…
…my best, in jest, big jonny…
…signed:: a newer, more sensitive, bikesgonewild
ugh.
…so bikepunk, yer sayin’ i shouldn’t sell my bikes n’ become a absinthe besotted poet ???…
…just guessin’…