calls me.
she's crying, or at least i think
she's crying.
i don't hear her blowing
her nose,
which is a true
sign of actual crying.
she's 87.
my father is 96.
her feathers
are ruffled.
she's upset with my father.
she says he's
cold and aloof, angry
and jealous
when he doesn't get his way.
will i ever get
used to it?
will he ever change?
i tell her, no.
but it's your choice to leave,
and your choice
to stay.
there's a reason his
front door
is a revolving door.
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