It’s my job not to pay attention, but I listen.
I like to hear them laugh
and enjoy each other.
I love their stories and their snores through
a well-earned nap.
I like to hear their families say,
“Jacob turns eight this year.”
that’s Carl you’re thinking of,
but that’s okay.
I weep inside for
their breakup’s, their hard times,
their mom’s sick.
They piece my heart back together
when they ask their
if they’ve eaten. They called
just to ask that and if
they could pick anything up.