Were They Mad
It’s all bad, it’s horrible, we’re mad, and mean, and furious.
We’re tearing up people, throwing out “poor me’s” like crazy.
You think you have it bad? Listen to this. I am stunned.
Most are better at me than this. I decide to make up stuff.
Everyone is grousing, griping, tossing swears into the air.
I raise your swear, and double it! We are mad at everything.
The government our bosses, our husbands, our pets, our neighbors.
We begin giving them mean names. We are laughing so hard!
There is a knock. Grandad wants to know if we are okay in here.
We roll our eyes. But settle down two notches. Get silent.
A few minutes later Grandma breezes in carrying a tray.
She has warm pancakes, butter, syrup, large glasses of cold milk.
As we begin our breakfast she tells us six to eight hilarious stories.
About our moms, dads, aunts, uncles, even my dad. He lived on the corner.
We are laughing so hard, that the entire room changes gears.
We begin speaking in a positive, uplifting, happy optimistic way.
Grandma has had the talent to change a situation to good her whole life.
So were they mad? Grandpa asked when she came out of the room.
I don’t know, she admitted. I rarely see mad.
I don’t think she would recognize it if she did.
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