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.