Friend's house for dinner

I remember,
when I was young,
and more of a dick,
and I would go to my friend's house.

Several times I would stay for dinner.

    We all sat around the table, and there was probably
  chunks of breaded chicken or something,
and my friend's mom would say, let's say grace.

Then we would all have to hold hands, and close our eyes,
but I would look around at everyone.

It was so funny,  looked at them with their eyes closed.

(These last two poems are a lot like Shane's previous one because I just
read his)

"Thank you Jesus for the meal" or something his mom would say,
     I ... Don't ... Remember...!

Have more respect.
Should I?

     OH these things are nothing in life,
aren't they?
Grainy bread, dead bread