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Said we were better off without
the bitch. If I had been as big as I am
now, I would have made him sorry.
No wonder he hates his dad.
Mine’s a major screwup, but
at least he isn’t corpse-hearted.
WE STOP AT A DINER
In Bishop. Splurge on a meat loaf
dinner, the Christmas Eve special.
That’s a little weird, I guess, but
hey. Special is special. And cheap,
too. I eat every bite, mop the gravy
from the plate with the last crumbs
of a big homemade biscuit. Good
thing the place is semi-empty.
I probably look like exactly what
I am—a homeless person
who hasn’t eaten much in a week.
The waitress comes over to check
on us. She smiles. Hungry, eh?
Can I get you another biscuit?
Then, to Kyle, Don’t like meat loaf?
I hadn’t even noticed that he’s sort
of just picking at his. It’s fine. Guess
I’m feeling a little under the weather.
He looks it too. Parchment pale
and a bit shaky. She’ll have a biscuit.
I WAIT FOR THE WAITRESS TO GO
“You okay? It would be better
if you could eat something.
