I hear the familiar sounds of an older man
in the bathroom,
in the morning.
You know the ones.
The throat-clearing, nose-blowing,
deeply resonant readying for another day that happens
in a bathroom,
in the morning.
“How can I be in a house
with two men in their mid-fifties
who are not my Dad?”
I ask myself,
standing in the kitchen.
As I stop and look at my face in the mirror,
I have my answer.
(dedicated to friend jr and partner ljm)