Feeling a little lost
I go to K-Mart for a steamer.
Perhaps vegetables will help.
But I already eat vegetables
every day –
cooked in the hand-me-down steamer
from my old neighbor’s sister.
A woman who suffered from migraines,
a failed marriage,
a failed life, in fact.
A recovering alcoholic
whose daughter abused drugs
at an early age.
She hired me to help
her organize and clean
one summer,
her sister having given
up the enterprise as futile.
Sorting through the black
plastic garbage bags
for what was not trash
I found a childhood photo
of the daughter,
How does this happen,
I wondered without daring
to speak out loud.
It is a moment
I have remembered
more than once,
though I have not seen
the two sisters in a decade.
The one who was my friend
discarded me,
I was never sure why,
something mis-read,
something it was necessary
to leave behind.
Finally, I am buying a new steamer,
one that has only
been mine.