the grapevine

there used to be a grapevine.

one sister
was the main grape
who squeezed the juice,

had all the sweet gossip
that she

passed along religiously
from one
phone line
to another.

my mother was the switchboard,
relaying
every little secret
that hit her ear,

always saying, don't tell anyone
I told you this,
but....so and so...etc.

I'd throw her a bone every once
in a while just
to see how long it would
get back to me,

but the vine
has grown old. the news
isn't as juicy as it used to be.

all the grapes have
been squeezed, they're
just aren't any good

surprises anymore.
no fun, no jaw dropping
news,
no mystery.