I haven't thought of a title to do him justice yet...

Behind the 80 year old ears of the grandfather,
ears that have served him well for decades,
ears that are beginning to fail him,
sit a canyon on each side of his head
amongst hair whiter than the salt
we used to sprinkle on homegrown tomatoes,
eating them like apples, walking barefoot
through their garden.
Watermelons bigger than my skull.
Zucchinis bigger than my legs
of which my grandma would use to make bread
the best you've ever tasted
I ate it for each meal.
Wire-rimmed bifocals fit like puzzle pieces
in the craters alongside his brain
his brain that holds endless stories
about places he's been
people he's beat up
his brain, that is starting to forget
the tall tales he would spitfire to me,
sitting on the lawn, knees green with stains
toes caked with mud from the irrigation canal
once, I went in all the way.
Mud hugged my shoulders and my family lost me.
But I smiled the whole time
it was he who found me,
"Sunuvabitch, here she is!"
And I smiled still, as I got a shower from the garden hose
it angrily spewed water on me like a green snake
the sting of the cold water like venom on my skin
right there on that same lawn
we talked for hours
the natural slur of his words showered me both in
wisdom and spit
"When you came out, you fit right in the palm of my hand."
How I wish my infant eyes were old enough to open
and study him
remember the awed expression on his face
as my little body, my entire being, fit perfectly in his wrinkled palm.
Like a puzzle piece.