sometimes in the grocery store
you will see a mother with her angry toddler
stomping his feet, clenching his little fists
tears seeping from eyes squeezed shut
and he’s screaming, and she’s wrong
and there’s nothing she can do, no magic
words, nothing to convince him that
it’s alright, that mommy loves him,
that this is a safe world to live in.
his sad little face
recalls a man who once shared my bed.
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that tight description is nice but the kicker couplet hits it out of the park.