Monday, December 21, 2009

Cock Fights

we stood in the kitchen
rummaging through
a collection of years
spent together.
I gave him the toaster.
he let me have the waffle maker
that I claimed changed my life.
plates and dishes and soup ladles
being separated
like children to an orphanage.
our eyes fell upon
the ceramic rooster set at the same time.
I called it first.
he called it louder.
a Christmas gift from a friend
that neither of us wanted
now, it was a gold mine,
the ultimate prize
only to spite the other.
voices thundering
against ceramic tiles
a cock fight of our own
in a cold kitchen
that was once our home.
I pull out the tear trick
and he relents a bit
saying the roosters are mine
if he can have the kitten
that we just adopted.
that dirty bastard!
how unfair was that?!?
but I could not retreat.
so I agreed and grabbed
the nearest thing I could find…
“take it! I get the roosters…
AND I’m taking this banana!!!”
I shook it fiercely in the air between us
as if it was a weapon
that could take his life.
he stepped backwards,
reaching for the kitten,
as I threw the roosters and bananas
into my last box
and stormed out the door
victorious!

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