"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