Writober – 10/3/2019 – Bait

I write at the kitchen table today
while the boy does his homework
and I decide
a poem
which is feeling
like a bad idea
6 lines in.

This is what I wish I could do well again
this is the dance I prefer
my kind of tune.
This is the kind of bed
I like to fuck in
or die trying
but man, I'm running
out of breath here.

And this kid
is doing a play by play
of his math homework
"My final answer is 132"
to no one who asked and
"Dada, my teacher taught
me how to do this
but you already know how
do you want me to show you?"

No.

He's got his hair gelled to the side
and his Miami Heat jersey
matches his red and black glasses.
He points his finger gun at me
not in violence
but in invitation.

So no, but yes.

I've taken the bait
and abandoned poetry again.