my mother was on face book,
Instagram,
LinkedIn,
and a dating site
for seniors,
while her divorce was
pending from her third marriage.
she posted photos of her garden,
tomatoes and string beans,
loose leaf lettuce,
and the puzzles
she was working on, spread
out over the dining room table.
pics of her yellow parakeet,
Joey Heatherton,
and her dog
that she called Dean Martin
were on her sites too.
she texted me the other day
and asked
if i wanted to do a zoom call.
i told her, mom,
i live ten minutes away,
how about i stop
over for lunch.
oh no, she said. i can't
i have a date.
a date?
yes, i met some nice man
on lastcall.com
he's a retired
encyclopedia salesman.
he seems really nice.
in fact
we zoomed last night
until
three in the morning.
he wanted me to model
some lingerie
that i used to wear for your
father, so i obliged.
i open up the kitchen drawer,
rattling around
everything that's in there.
what's that noise, she says.
oh nothing.
i'm just looking for a sharp
knife to kill myself.
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