Generation Gap

By By Carlene Tejada

My 80-year-old neighbor

stares at the shiny new car, a gift
from her 20ish grandson, because
her old car just turned 10.

“Why?” she asks with a shrug,
a restless halo of short white curls
bobbing around her head.
“My old one drives just fine.”

Then my 30ish son replaces
the chunky 12-year-old TV and VCR,
hogging a corner of my living room,
with a state-of-the-art slim screen TV
bearing a “you can’t do without it” DVD slot.

“Why?” I ask with a shrug,
adjusting my own unruly halo.
“My old one works just fine.”

The boys ruffle our halos
with wide hands, wave good-by,
and leave us with our new toys.

(For more poetry by Carlene Tejada and “Blue Pearls” go to or