There is the payphone I’ll use in middle school
The one I’ll use to call mom crying
After you drop me off and say
Goodbye Forever
And the one into which you’ll crash the car
The car we’ll drive you home in
After your first time at the hospital
Where you’ll go twice a week
Every week
For six months
To be s h o c k e d
And the one you’ll bring me to
Where I’ll tell your psychiatrist of the monster you become
When your shadow swallows the house
But leaves you the roof
For you to climb up onto
And balance on the shingles
As Mom fights back her tears
And calmly tells the police
That it's only a BB gun.

I kind of hope it does,* he said,
forking at a piece of chocolate cake
too large for the plate he chose.
We didn't say much in the flat moments after.
It thickened the air as we turned
back to the TV and watched
the pretty people wryly wonder
if the world would really end.