Again, his mother. I would’ve ignored him,
too. She forgot him at band practice. Never
congratulated him for a B+ in geometry.
He stayed on her couch till he turned thirty.
I’m sure he was an embarrassment. A bore.
Twenty minutes until I can pick up the dry
cleaning. Ron’s going to be late. Always late.
For some reason he refuses to look me
in the eyes. Interesting shoes, I want to ask.
Snobby jeans, unbuttoned shirts. If he
thought about himself in human terms
he might be O.K. Instead, he’s a bug.
I’ve seen that before. My own son shoplifts.
He’s good at it because his bedroom closet
is full of DVDs and video games I’ve
never seen before. Maybe he deals weed.
Last night Ron kissed me with tongue.
His mouth tasted foreign. Cinnamon gum.
What a sad patient. He stole his girlfriend’s
alarm clock. Denied it when she found out.
He says he keeps its frozen at the hour
they broke up. Pathetic. My son dates plenty
of girls. Hasn’t cried once. Like his father.