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)