Sometimes I wish I had an eraser,
not a normal one,
this one would erase differently,
erase the past,
like the night my family and I were sitting in the living room
watching a thriller, but our minds weren’t on it.
I was reading a good book, as always.
There were two tents in the background
which we planned to sleep in.
Popcorn was on my mother’s lap,
my little sister was doing a puzzle
and eating popcorn.
A perfect evening
with only a phone call.
My mom almost didn’t answer
but in the end she did.
I wish she hadn’t, although it wouldn’t have helped in the least.
Me, sitting in the background
while my father’s girlfriend was busy telling my mother
that my father died.
Too many drugs.
30 seconds changed my life.
That day turned out to be the worst in my whole life.
No erasers. Too bad.
—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
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