your mother would
often say
things like, why
don't you pick up
your clothes and put
them in the closet
or the dresser drawers.
why do you throw
everything on the floor?
i'm not a maid
for you boys. you
live like pigs
in a barnyard.
and sometimes you'd
look up, or down
from your bunkbed,
depending on where
you were located,
taking your eyes
off the marvel comic
book you were
reading, just slightly
and say, okay. okay.
i just want
to finish this.
ten minutes and then
i'll pick up my stuff.
she'd leave the room
at some point, giving
up, but opening
a window before she
left and saying
it smells bad in
here. wash your hands
before dinner.
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