Thirteen in the 80’s

remote control cord
stretches from television to ez chair
I eat canned spinach
dripping forkfuls
memorize TV guide “weeknights until 10pm”
mom’s bed in our dining room
aged green blanket
stretched and wrinkly
next to a typewriter
story half written
latchkey love
table set for mom and dad
I’m alone with hotdogs, can of Campbells country vegetable
evenly distributed beside mismatched forks
until they come home
neighborhood boys gather
in my backyard
blue eyes
lanky cool
awkward laughter
folded paper bags on our walk-in pantry floor
stretched dirty yellow phone cord
I sit
behind closed door
whisper beneath pure cane sugar
Chiquita banana lady stickers decorate
cardboard end table
she sticks on our noses
daddy and I laugh after dark
in Trapper John MD’s glow
cluttered corners
roach eggs collect in paper stacks
magazine corner hangs off scrap wood book shelf
advertises nuclear war
I want to grow up