I'm always

feeling like some single parent’s

February Christmas tree.

Crispy, part of the family,

overstaying my welcome

against my will.

This one’s for you, mom.

I don’t know blue, he says,

What does blue mean.

(I’m always) feeling like

The tension between a porch

and a mud room,

Who’s who?

I was born to be

a studio apartment.

Whose socks are these?

Whose house is this?

How big am I?

How much mess

is too much

to exist