Girls’ night in, just you and mom
blasting Beatles in the basement.
Drowned in that awful T-shirt, pit stains
Gettin’ Lucky in Kentucky
Save a spot for Fritz, the stray who lives
below the step. To dad, he’s that damn cat
but mom sneaks him inside and strokes the ear
split by frostbite as he refuses chunks
of toast burned black in distraction as she sang
ob la di, ob la da, life goes on, brah!
You thank the virus that destroyed her laptop’s
immune system and dread the morning when
it’s fixed and she retreats to her email,
leaving you to dad and bread that’s never burnt.