We called aunt Regina
the Italian Moms Mabley.
She was four foot six,
dressed like a gypsy
in garage sale clothes.
With her boyfriend, Nick,
she attended wrestling matches,
funerals where she could
scavenge flowers from gravesites
once mourners left.
During gambling trips to Vegas,
she entertained bus passengers
by sharing intimate,
embarrassing family stories,
passed around our photos.
Made everyone laugh.
You never knew when a stranger
might approach and ask,
“Aren’t you the one who
broke her mother’s heart,
had an affair,
got a messy divorce?”
Unwitting celebrities,
we had no secrets.
Thanks to her lack of filters,
our dysfunctional lives
were an open book.
