My Very Own Crew

My family’s my all

Under one roof

That could cave in soon

Still, no time to ponder

Time exhausted its quotas

Naught left but laughter

Laughter’s our chief cover

Our survival kit

Strength in numbers

Mom’s third in line

Now abandoned for dad’s fifth

All said, now twenty-six

Not to mention Hanibal

Fred, Maria, Elena, Danilo

Joshua, Norma, Marco et al

All first cousins

Not counting their own

Our distant ones

They’d come all merry mingling

With the crowd of jolly bodies

Chuckling, no time for gloom

Misery loving company?

Ain’t the reverse true?

Still, laughter aplenty

Imbibing the local brew

The only one we afford

To boost the joy in the splurge

Jeff, Cedric’s distant uncle

Became more distant

After being voted to the council

Touting his bulge between his legs

Nicknamed him “ostrich eggs”

Diagnosed with hydrocele

From some blood worm

Ballooning his scrotum

His frippery swiftly unhinged

Later incarcerated

For robbing public lands

Making his pockets inflated

Bro Fred, with no front teeth

From his taste for sweets

His liver gave way to the booze

Burying him was the last straw

Mitch his younger sib

Took over his dray

Vending bananas in the hood

Unsold leftovers made our do

Little Joe took to picking pockets

Our dog absconded

Eloping with a bitch

He’d go bananas at the sight of Mitch

Mom often said, keep laughing

No deliverance in sight

No poetry nor whining

Could save you gang

Making laughter more vital

Little hope for change

Happily ever after

Ain’t no fairy tale exclusive

But for folks like us, Mom was right

© Alwi Shatry, All Rights Reserved