Listens to the dripping
in the kitchen sink.
Listens to the ticking
of the clock on the kitchen wall.
Looks up to the ceiling.
Thinks. Blinks. Frowns.
Trying to figure out something.
"What comes after R again?"
he hollers out, his face
red with irritation, frustration.
"And I am not eating this soup
until I get my Spiderman suit!"
he protests, pushing the bowl away.
His wife steps closer
wipes his lips dry,
pushes the bowl back near him,
kisses his forehead,
heaves a heavy sigh, shakes her head,
then goes back to the sink
to continue washing the dishes.
Papa Osmubal writes from Macau, Southern China.
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