room service

she comes in with all good
intention while
I’m at
this machine

perhaps the
sound of it
encourages her
to bring me more
luck and goodness

but when she
enters
and I hear her
voice

I leap upright
from this chair

scream:
“HOLY JESUS CHRIST!”

she brings me
a snack
upon a plate.

“thank you,” I
tell her, “but you
really scared the
shit out of
me.   you know,
when I’m at this
typer
I’m gone
around
some corner.”

“sorry, daddy,”
she says, “I
forgot.”

“it’s all right,”
I tell her…

only to have her
repeat
this process
the night
after next.

love, of course,
excuses
everything

and that’s when
fools such as I
pick at snacks
change ribbons
and wonder
where
the last sentence
went.

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