don't call me that

you wake up, make some
coffee, then go into
the living room where
you hear a loud scratching
noise. hi honey you say.
coffee? you're up awfully
early. whatcha doing?
I don't like it
when you call me names,
she says hunched over
and grinding
a knife into your
coffee table. I am
not a pyscho.
she looks up
with her smeared from
crying raccoon eyes
and waves the pen knife
at you that is attached
to her key chain.
she goes back to etching
what looks like a word
beginning with
an upper case F.
it's no way to have a
relationship by calling
one another names.
that really hurt me last
night when you did that.
you stare at the wood
chips on the floor
below the table. I'm
sorry, you tell her,
taking a sip of your
hot coffee.
you know what, you tell
her gently, you're right.
no more name calling.
I'm sorry. coffee?
I've got some green tea
in there too. English muffin?
did you take your
pills yet? where
are they, in your purse?
let me get them
for you.
oh, and don't worry
about those chips.
i'll get them with
the dust buster.