That row we had this morning about how
I always put you down and all the ways
I fail to show that I appreciate
the things you do and how I never give
you the support that I should know you need
and how the last time that my mother came
and every time in fact she’s ever come
you couldn’t trust me to be on your side
and why you think that our relationship
can’t last and sometimes feel that you would not
be really sorry if a giant chunk
of masonry should fall upon my head
and crack my fucking skull . . .
I have a hunch
the real issue may have been the wet
towel left upon the bathroom floor last night.