Just hold on a while longer
I sit on a chair that has been passed
through generations, smoking my last cigarette,
and my phone chimes—a message from my father,
“You didn’t come for lunch yesterday”
I take another hit from the cigarette,
put the phone down, and it chimes again.
I pick it up and read the other message
“You won’t eat anything today either?”
I put the phone down again.
He is a good man, and I hope he knows it
like I do.
I stub the cigarette on the table,
walk to the bathroom and look in the toilet.
Cigarette ash and cigarette filters
float in the toilet water
like dead fish in a polluted river.
I throw the filter into the toilet
and piss on the ashy dead fish.
I return to my room, walk towards the window
and look out. I see the old lady
that lives in front; she sees me and waves hello,
then pulls her curtains closed.
I think a cold shower would be nice.
I’ll put on some fresh clothes too for a change,
and go visit my old man.
I’m sure he’ll be glad
to see me come home for dinner.
©2020 Giovanni Mangiante All rights reserved.
Giovanni Mangiante, born on March 17th, 1996, is a bi-lingual writer from Lima, Peru. He has work published in Open Minds Quarterly, Ghost City Review, Panoply, The Anti-Languorous Project, Dream Noir, Punk Noir Magazine, Minute Magazine, Eunoia Review, and has upcoming poems in Down in the Dirt, Fearsome Critters, and Three Rooms Press. In writing, he found a way to cope with Borderline Personality Disorder.