"Start Writing Now" You Said, "The Moment Needs You."
But I'm only good at love songs about missing you.
I fainted at Kaiser when I was pregnant
In the hallway by the elevators
Alone.
I woke up on the dirty carpeted floor
to yelling nurses or someone
You came to get me but you took the bus
So we wouldn't have two cars there
How did you think that way
So practical
You were just barely not a child yourself
you were barely a grown man
You wanted to be a father
you picked out a name
and a tiny forty niners jacket
and you were mine and
I was yours
and he was ours.
I don't think about him much
His name his age
what he'd look like now
more me or more you
he'd have wrinkles now
grey hair
and maybe a baby of his own
I don't think about how I wasn't ever a mother
I never said, "My son"
except once in Spanish
about my dog
as a joke
and they laughed.
How did you get so good at this
I asked
"Practice"
you said.
