Girls’ night in, just you and mom

blasting Beatles in the basement.

Drowned in that awful T-shirt, pit stains

Gettin’ Lucky in Kentucky

Save a spot for Fritz, the stray who lives

below the step. To dad, he’s that damn cat

but mom sneaks him inside and strokes the ear

split by frostbite as he refuses chunks

of toast burned black in distraction as she sang

ob la di, ob la da, life goes on, brah!

You thank the virus that destroyed her laptop’s

immune system and dread the morning when

it’s fixed and she retreats to her email,

leaving you to dad and bread that’s never burnt.