when i was a teenager i would
stay up inadvisably late every day of the week
stir together sugar and butter and cream cheese
or flour, oil, cocoa, sugar and milk
little bowls of brownie batter and frosting just for me
i broke my heart on bagels and chili with chips
alone in my room in the almost dark
my lamp had four bulbs but just one working
i lived with spoons for company in a nest of dirty laundry
until the drawer downstairs had no utensils
and it took me too long to dress in the morning

i’m on the cusp of growing up now
but when i spend nights in my childhood home
my shoe footed or sock footed or bare footed feet pad into the kitchen
to dip a series of spoons into hot fudge and peanut butter,
string endless episodes of anything until i can’t see,
curled up on couches under whatever is closest
i don’t sleep in my old bedroom anymore


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