stuffed shells

you call your mother
to tell her that you've
won the nobel prize
for literature and that
you are travelling
to sweden to pick
up your medal and
substantial award money.
that's nice she says.
i'm happy for you, but
i feel bad for the losers.
are you sure this isn't
a mistake. why you?
maybe you should share
the award with them.
you pause, and clear
your throat. maybe,
you say. so when
are you coming over,
she says. if you can
go all the way over
to sweden, maybe you
can cross the wilson bridge
sometime and visit me.
i'll set a plate out.
sunday, at five, okay?
i'm making stuffed shells.