Baby's in the
bathroom, fixing
her hair. I smoke
yesterdays butts.
My head pounding
and heart sick.
I pretend to read.
My baby girl
calls out "White Boy".
I help her fasten
the cheap necklace
that I got her
all those lows ago.
She pretends to smile.
Reaching towards
her reflection,
I take the last
of a bottle of gin
and toast our love.
She smells like
dollar store perfume
and resignation.
We dance an
awkward little dance
a little stumbly
a little sad
and she says
she has to go.
So I pick up my
book and she
puts on her shoes
and I'll wait for
my Baby to come home.
