As I open the fridge
I realize that the only thing my mother has brought are a stack of lunchables.
The kind without the juice pouch.
it’s not that I don’t lover her, just I’m disappointed in myself.
This house smells like farts.
Or maybe I just haven’t showered in a couple of weeks.
I just never want to leave the bubblegum laughter of the city.
It is something to love.
Something not to leave.
Something you just can’t be disappointed in.
-sonja lynn mata
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