Tuesday
On Tuesday.
I would lie on the floor.
There’s not much else.
Except the fan on the ceiling.
He can’t clean the house or cook dinner.
He just keeps it a little too cold.
On Wednesday.
Someone could be under my bed.
I wouldn’t know, I’m asleep.
I wouldn’t know, I’m hungry.
On Thursday.
I had some leftovers in the fridge.
I don’t remember where they came from.
My phone says it’s 11:34 am.
There’s not much else to eat.
The food is mysterious.
Hunger.
Not much else.
On Friday.
If that cookie fell on the floor.
I would want to eat it.
They told me not to.
So I feel twitchy.
Whoever told me that.
Told me long ago.
They might have died.
Long ago.
On Saturday.
If I could find something in the pantry.
I would eat it.
At the grocery store is where they are.
They will stare at me.
And laugh that I haven’t eaten in days.
So I went the store at 2:30 am.
When it is closed.
And cry in the parking lot.
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