she tells me proudly.
he owns two pairs of shorts,
one pair of jeans
and three t-shirts.
and sandals.
she beams when she talks
about him.
remembering
how he sang in the choir
in the fifth grade.
but, i tell her,
he's nine years out of college,
he's thirty-three.
no job
no girlfriend,
no money,
still living in the same
house and bedroom
as the day
he was born.
what does he do all day?
i ask her.
which ends the discussion.
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