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Takeout
I dialed the numbers – as they screamed-
The words as Painful as bullets Hitting bystanders –
Witnessing a Murder and unable to say Anything but-
“Do you Deliver?”
Profanities hung Palpable in the air – wafting like the Smell of Grease –
How could one be Hungry during such trials? – starving for Attention
I ask for extra Cheese – Stepfather requests a lawyer, Mother desires Nothing
More than Refuge – safety – and perhaps a Salad.
How long will this Take, I have to Know – when will it End?
“You can expect It in 20 minutes.” – “Oh, you’re going to get It, JoAnna...”-
Stepfather’s temper Rises – Mother retreats maintaining Steady Eyes –
Today’s special is pepperoni calzone with a dash of Resentment.
Arrangements are made – the door receives a Knock –
I rush to Answer – finally, the Ordeal will come to an End – Divorce
is better than Misery – or Hunger – “I hope you’re happy...” he Retorts –
Eyes on me, “Dinner’s here.”
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