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"Notice that I am not laughing" He said this from Another room While my stepmom Laughed "Where are the jokes now? Why are you So **** quiet?" She asked him this While looking at me Silence from the Other room was The only answer She held the paper In front of her and Read through it again Aloud "Enlargement of ventricles In the brain Inconsistent with a Forty five year old female" She laughed again And stared at the paper Through the paper, really "Well, I don't feel bad for myself I feel bad for you guys" She poured another Glass of Chardonnay And walked out Onto the porch The foggy panes In the double doors Rattling as she closed it I stood there In the kitchen My only company The clicking of his Keyboard from The other room And a plastic container Of week old scones I thought about How nice she was How pretty her New haircut looked How well she could Decorate a room How she still Emptied my trash Cleaned my toilet Made mincemeat pies How when I said "Thank you" She always just Nodded silently Or said "O.K." I felt the space I was already putting Between myself And her The sour swelling In my chest That seemed to sit In the back of my Throat and eyes Perched itself on The back of my tongue As I thought about all this I heard him stop typing He was tasting the same Sourness and Thinking about How empty a bed Can be at 1 A.M. When someone Else used to consider it Their bed as well
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Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Home for Lunch
"Notice that I am not laughing" He said this from Another room While my stepmom Laughed "Where are the jokes now? Why are you So **** quiet?" She asked him this While looking at me Silence from the Other room was The only answer She held the paper In front of her and Read through it again Aloud "Enlargement of ventricles In the brain Inconsistent with a Forty five year old female" She laughed again And stared at the paper Through the paper, really "Well, I don't feel bad for myself I feel bad for you guys" She poured another Glass of Chardonnay And walked out Onto the porch The foggy panes In the double doors Rattling as she closed it I stood there In the kitchen My only company The clicking of his Keyboard from The other room And a plastic container Of week old scones I thought about How nice she was How pretty her New haircut looked How well she could Decorate a room How she still Emptied my trash Cleaned my toilet Made mincemeat pies How when I said "Thank you" She always just Nodded silently Or said "O.K." I felt the space I was already putting Between myself And her The sour swelling In my chest That seemed to sit In the back of my Throat and eyes Perched itself on The back of my tongue As I thought about all this I heard him stop typing He was tasting the same Sourness and Thinking about How empty a bed Can be at 1 A.M. When someone Else used to consider it Their bed as well
freeform
saintlebowitz
Written by
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
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