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for each other.
It’s too bad they hooked up at all. Because
the only things they have in common
are
giving me life
and
tearing my life apart.
MY MOTHER
Gifts me with a visit once, maybe
twice, a year. Our conversations
seesaw between inane and trite:
How’s school?
“Okay, I guess.”
Still running track?
“Not for a while.”
Extracurricular stuff?
“Not really, no.”
How they should go is like this:
How’s school?
“Better than could be
expected, considering
I only have foster parents
to make sure I’m there
on time, with breakfast in my
belly, encouraging my rather
outstanding performance,
despite the fact that no
one really gives a shit.”
Still running track?
“Not since the day a wind
