Just to be There

Travelodge covers the lampshades
In plastic
My mother calls after bedtime to make
Sure I’ll survive
Someone hurt me and that hurts her
That in itself gives me reason never
To procreate
She deserves mad props for putting
Up with me
Let alone this level of devotion and love
I can’t imagine many others are capable,
Including me
She wants me home to comfort her
Little girl
But I’m here writing under the light of
Plasticized lampshades

October 19, 02