My former self arrives at my door, unannounced.
I cringe and nervously push back my unwashed hair,
self-conscious in an untied bathrobe,
while guiltily smoking another cigarette.
She wastes no time.
Is condescending. Says
I hardly recognized you, then,
fine, you want to just sit here?
Takes up a lead pipe and
breaks both my legs.
My future self is kinder.
She braids my hair and kisses my temples,
brings me soup in a stained paper bag, says
no excuses. one more bite.
winks at me and then whispers, confidential,
injuries aren’t always what they seem, my dear.
walking away was the easy part.
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