You want no one to know
you're home alone. You sit
in the dark, listen to Miles blow
All Blue through head phones.
Upstairs, a party. A glass smashes,
laughter and salsa splash through cracks
in the ceiling. Bottle rockets shoot
lines of light past your window.
The phone rings. You listen
to the machine answer. "Happy
New Year. Don't forget about the circus
next Saturday. I miss you Daddy."
You re-wind the tape,
play it back twice.
First published in Nerve Cowboy
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