Sunday, December 20, 2015

Missing Mom

This early morning,
winter sun in my eye,
and I, in the driver's seat
of my neat gray compact,
leaned across the the seat,
opened the passenger door
to let in a worn-out thief.

He called himself Grief.
I offered him my car.
He said thank you,
but he wasn't here for that.
I offered him some cash
and a couple of unused gift cards.
He told me to put them back.
So I offered him some memories.
He shook his hairy head and said,
"You know what it is I want."

And so I surrendered my joy.

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