I think even your Grandpa Ben was embarrassed
By how Grandma Gert clung to him when he showed up
At a bar-mitzvah. We’d heard he’d taken another name,
Married someone else, run another business,
But it was like he never left . . .
Once, I think I was eleven, she took me to meet him for lunch.
We stood outside the diner for nearly an hour.
When we saw him, she grabbed my arm,
I asked, “who’s he with,” but your grandma didn’t hear
And just pushed past everyone until we stood
In the path of the other two. “Who’re they, Ben?”
I heard the woman ask. “C’mon, keep walking,”
He said, and they were gone, so we
Went home. We never ate lunch.