All I Can Think of is My Grandfather

I’ve been trying to think of an opening to start this poem, but all I can think of right now, is my grandfather and how he used to mix & match consonants when he said things to lighten the mood in the Omni,

we would all laugh and recombine syntax while on our way to Weeks for some English muffins, referred to as toaster crumpets originally, and chocolate milk, you could say

we looked like a bunch of hoodlums that had just robbed a Citizens bank.

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