This is my afternoon: warm washcloth, angry sty

Meditation interrupted by teen flyby

Project started: more teens arrive

Waiting for my teen

Teens who eat my chips: I love you

I love that tea means gossip

That teens administer psychology freely

While eating the chips, just bought

This isn’t a poem, but a writing down of what is right now

How we always feel in-between what was & what comes next

While what is involves bags of chips

Full then half full then empty

They tell me their homes lack chips.

I restock

We have chips and real tea.

I drink tea and listen to the “T.”

I am behind the times and catching up.

I’m firmly established in the chip days.

I’m full of crumbs and glad.