I found Grandma on the street today
reborn as a rock.
I didn't recognize her at first
without her turquoise-rim glasses
or her always-falling-out-in-public teeth;
she was standing in the gutter on her bald,
Mom tells me Grandma's gone to nag God into slaughtering spiders
and taking the farts out of vegetables,
but if you squint your eyes and tilt your head,
you can see Grandma's crooked nose--
the one that she broke
playing badminton last year--
and the way her eyes crinkle at the corners
when she talks about cheating
to beat me at checkers.
And it's just like Grandma to come back as a rock;
Mom's always called her a stubborn old crook,
and it looks like Grandma's holding a bag of stolen money
under her billowing Hippie-Days shirt sleeves
if you turn her just slightly to the right.
I think I'm gonna keep her in my bedroom.
Just in case.