It is thanksgiving. It is the day you
are grateful for the two parents who
sit on their aqua couch and patiently wait
for you to come home every holiday to
the home made turkey and their little house
in New Jersey.

It is thanksgiving and she is heartbroken
and it is all because
you refuse to accept her calls, you refuse to
listen to her voice; you refuse to let her hear
yours. She sits; quietly she sits home in her
little house in New Jersey while
her husband, your father drives through crazy
traffic over the crammed bridge and
into the city to retrieve you for a family dinner
you have no interest in.

And because it is thanksgiving,
you come home and you tell her you don’t
pick up her calls because you don’t
want to listen to her voice, the one that
lectures you and tells to stop what you are doing
before it is too late
and because she loves you.

You say this flat out. It is thanksgiving but
You continue to tell her that
you do not owe her anything anymore
that you can cover your own rent so she can
leave you the hell alone now.

That is not the worst part. The worst part
is that she still tries to take what you are saying
and be okay and she still takes your sh** and
worries about it and she still wants a relationship
with you.

I don’t know why, I certainly wouldn’t.
But then again
I am not your mother and you are not my child.
I do not sit at home in a little house in
New Jersey, waiting for my heartbreak. It is
thanksgiving and she gets no sleep.
Night after night, she gets
no sleep.