to throw
dishes at my father.
they were plates full of cold
food.
spaghetti,
or pork chops.
pea soup.
or baked beans.
his favorites.
we'd find the shards of
broken dishes
on the floor the next
morning,
the food stuck to the walls.
but they were
in bed together when
we peeked into
their bedroom.
entangled on one another.
the argument
solved.
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