Snuffy

Sometimes I think about my dead grandfather.
I don't remember him well
but I do know that his eyes were the color of steel
and that he looked hollow the night before he died.
Now I wonder if he sees me from the grave
when I back-date my checks
or lie to sweet boys.
My grandmother made him Catholic
so sometimes he and I nod off together in church
and take too much wine
before we sign and grin like the oldest of children
as we walk back to the pew.
I wonder if my sister wonders about him.
They didn't know each other
but I think he sees her trying to put on makeup.
And I think he sits with my grandmother
when she remembers what it was like to dance.