my mom looks at me
like “what do I do?’
I am only 11 years old
my mom-
fun as a bag of Doritos
I give her advice
it exhausts me
we are both depleted
after the divorce
but give more than we have
to each other
-it’s the only way to survive
my dad is a phantom
we beat up on him
for kicks
my mom is the good guy
and my dad is the bad guy
because he left
we live in his aftermath
in the car at night
driving around in
what he left behind
the world outside the windshield,
the streetlights barely glaring
all look as abandoned as we are
