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played the game like
it was for real.
Easier to play victim.
SPEAKING OF PLAYING
The last time Donald came
to visit, he fried my brand-new
Xbox. “Uh … So where are
the demon kids going to sleep?”
Apparently Dad hasn’t bothered
much with the minutiae. I don’t
know. Haven’t really thought
about it. The guest room?
I snort. “Mom’s white on white
with white trim guest room?
You’ve got to be kidding, right?”
He thinks it over for a second,
has to laugh, too. We could
give them permanent markers
to decorate the walls, I suppose.
Or there’s always …
I was afraid of that. Hmm.
Well, if I take everything of value
with me, “Maybe I could stay
with Nik.” Then I remember.
Take your shit, get out,
and don’t come back.
Ah, no worries. Surely
she’s cooled off by now.
I STASH ANY RESIDUAL WORRY
In a dark closet inside my brain
