Sometimes I
can handle listening to
him and her
complaining about
every tedious detail
of their life
and I can even feel
from time to time
sympathy

But then the truth comes out:

“Signed this loan
(can’t afford it)
bought this car
(cant afford that)
bounced this cheque
(to cover the car)
stole this jacket
(I was cold)
drove on a suspended license and told the officer I was my brother during a routine traffic stop
(well, that’s sort of that,
isn’t it?)”

And I just don’t think
I can take it any more.

No,

I think I’m going to start
a pawn shop.

That way, I
may have to listen,
but I don’t have to care.