The milkshake maker
sat on grandma’s kitchen table.
Each Sunday
we’d grab the bendy straws
and drink milkshakes together.
My brother, my sister, my cousins, and I
will never forget it.
Our milkshake date
at a “ma and pa” diner
was one for the books.
Two straws in one milkshake
to signify our love.
The checkered table
and leather booth
will never forget it.
The milkshake maker
collected dust.
With a $1 yard sale sticker
haphazardly stuck on
the top.
When it sold
we began to forget it.
The milkshake maker
could not love us
like grandma did.
The secret ingredient
was compassion.
I poured my whole being
into loving you,
into making you happy.
And when my cup was empty,
you weren’t there.
Two straws cross
in a melted diner milkshake.
Tears drip
onto the cold checkered table.
You deserve to be loved as selflessly as you love others.
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