Seven years old
and in dire need
of that
Teenaged
Mutant
Ninja
Turtles
action
figure
staring
from the
K-Mart
rack
a rare
commodity
that
would
distract
the boredom
of my restless
afternoons
barricaded
in my room
The answer
from mother
was no,
and I protested
with fists to the
linoleum tiles
mouth foaming
enraged
“I hate my mother”
I shouted to
all that would
listen
jumping
up and down
the Velcro
in my shoes
scratching
electricity
with every
angry stomp
she didn’t hit me
she didn’t yell
she just waited
and has told
this story
to every girlfriend
I’ve ever had
*originally published by Zygote in My Coffee
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