Generations

It’s funny the way
They argued about
Everything from driving
To politics to the shape
Of the kitchen table to
Who really won the fight
Of the century

There were discussions/
Debates on politics over bowls
Of soup, spooning in mouthfuls
Of this and that, swelling in the
Belly and sweat forming on the
Temples

Father and son at the
Table, at both
Ends, the distance between
Them the length of a bright
Yellow kitchen table that held
The memory of lemons and
Warmth of butter

And sometimes nothing
Was said as they mouthed
Unsaid words while they
Chewed on opposite ends

Father
And son

Two
Generations

One breaking windows
The other breaking wind

© 2017 Tony Robles

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