rooms

three days a week
my ex wife
lets me come in the morning
to get my son ready for school.

usually fry him a few eggs
wrestle in the living room
then hit the door.

wednesdays
he has to practice his guitar

only seven years old

he's already playing
ac/dc's back in black

weird al's yoda.

i just lean back
in the red
wicker rocking chair

proud as fuck.

this room is yellow now
piano in the corner
my son's guitar equipment
and my ex's opera music.

it used to be blue

a crib in the corner.

there's still
concave spackle
above the light switch

i put my fist through it
six years ago
out of frustration
because he wouldn't stop crying.

my ex
is in the bathroom
getting ready for work

i can hear her
humming an aria.

she's still
in love with me.

we haven't ever really
talked
through any of this.

dad.

dad.

hey-dad!

what should i
play next?