As if she doesn’t mind

she stands behind

her kitchen sink

while fifteen minutes blink

and I scrape ice

off Hertz car glass.

Once roses climbed to stare

inside at her.

Her kitchen’s pink,

her house is, but I think

my grandma’s not.

She’s green in thought

and ninety in ten days.

Her friends wrote praise

on cards and threw

the party I came to.

Don’t make her blind.

Give her good mind good days