My Room

She says to clean my room. I promise, this afternoon. First, I need to eat lunch. So I make a bunch. Pizza, a sandwich too. Some tortilla chips that are blue. She says to clean my room at this time. I almost say “fine.” But then I get a call. From work, they want me after all! I try not to act excited. But work makes me feel invited. To not clean my room. To put away the vacuum. I grab my uniform and keys. Ignoring my mom’s pleas. To clean my room after I get back. But by then, I’ll need to pack. My trip up north is tomorrow. And my messy room can never follow, Me to the hotel. Which someone else will clean, as well. She says I will clean when I get home. But until then, the beach, I will roam. Clothes on the floor, and my bed is not made. My mom is starting to get afraid. That the mess will come to life. She feels the strife. So she cleans it on her own. Before I get home. She enjoys the cleanliness. Until I come home to make another mess!