a glass of milk and a slice of pie

why don't you come over more,
my mother would

say as I sat there eating
her lemon
pie.

why don't you visit more
often.
I hardly ever get to see
you.

your sisters come all the time.
Saturday, sunday

and sometimes in the middle
of the week.

even your brother
in Tennessee
visits more than you do.
he drives six hours to get here.

slowly i'd cut into the pie
with my fork and eat.
i'm here now, i'd tell her.

look at me, i'm eating the pie
you made.

i'm right here. now. in the flesh,
sitting in
a chair

in your house.

do you want a glass of milk
with that? she'd say.

conversation over.

sure. a glass of milk would
be fine.