a note on the kitchen table

on the ride home
we talked
like we always did

this time we talked
about this big thing
about the chivalry
the opening of car doors
and of hanging my coat
and of calling me by
your "pet names."

don't get me wrong
i love you
but you forget
where we came from

the seedy hotels
the heroin
the fucking in backseats
the shacking up with random
girls
in the city

and you,
you
are just
a poor white boy
from the country
that i crushed on
and fucked
ferociously
and it slipped
past that
proverbial goaly

now i give up
my post modern dreams
to sit on the back porch
with you
and the little one

goddamn, this is hard
because i love you both
so dearly
fuck
i just can't do this
wife and mom bullshit
i can't make a fucking dinner
for you, and be attached
to this pitiful
suburban life

i've given up so much
just to be with you
i'm sorry
it's bad,
i know it
that i took
our only car
that you paid for
with your shitty job
but i couldn't
really afford the train
up north

just never tell
the little one about me
let him peacefully forget
you should do the same yourself
i will miss you, terribly
but please don't miss me

you'll never see me again
hopefully...