Living Room
My mom is setting the table.
Fork in hand, spoon in hand, plate in hand.
Everything on hand.
I fidget with a napkin.
I told her about a dream I had.
She didn’t think it was funny either.
I dreamt that I graduated college.
My name was called on stage,
It was ethereal.
Silverware clanging gently.
Getting ready for the guests.
I would put a diploma in the living room, I decided.
I would always take the time to dust the frame, before guests would arrive.
I promise.
I would dust it every time.
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