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School lunches

In private school, lunches were simple

Parents paid the bill and my tummy was filled.

No intentional effort or thought required.

I remember once, staying the night

With the neighbor, a year younger than I.

Her mom packed us a lunch

Bologna on white with mayo

As a single mom at the local Denny’s and IHOP

That was all she could afford.

I however

Thought it to be a delight.

That kind of care felt like a reward.

Later down the road, my esteem

D

R

O

P

P

E

D

I no longer ate in front of others

Making school field trips, especially overnights

My own personal commitment

On a road to die.

I knew not to ask

By then, I too was a broken home child.

From time to time

Dad would slide me some cash

Paying me

To pay attention and

Bring back details

Interested he was

In the new life of my mom

Interesting it is

Still leaving me confused

As to why interest and commitment

Are not always inherently fused.

Still no consistency

That only paid for my Mary J.

My father purchased me

A new family

At lunchtime

I would escape and hide

Smoke a cigarette or two

And maybe some pot

I learned resilience is the key

And is what holds all of the power

Adding to my knowledge

this important fact

Tomato soup can be made

From creamer and ketchup packets

And I could swipe some of those

When I was at the bar with my mom.