Abba, Amah

My mother bought off-brand shampoo

Sacrificing soft hair

To give me, us, everything she could muster.

She throws out her hand in front of me

When she steps on the brake, too hard.

As if I would go through the window.

But what if I went through the window?

She worries, too much.

But what if

I flew through?

My father still knows how to laugh

After decades of selfishly keeping his burdens

Away from our hearts.

He lands in the couch nightly,

Keeping me updated on a football score,

I wouldn’t ever ask about.

He cares, though.

So I care.

My mind is throwing pennies in a fountain

Wishful thinking for youth,

So they will never leave,

So I will never fly through the window,

So I will always know what game is on.

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