Sometimes I love a woman
and my mom hates her
and it makes me love that woman more
I don’t know what this proves
Because I love my mom, we just get along poorly
because she is a stubborn old woman but she raised me
I’m alive at this moment in time
so I’d say she did a pretty good job
One time I took a blurry picture of her
in front of a large tomato plant that we grew together
The image of that photograph is stronger that my actual memory
In fact it has replaced the memory
Not sure what that proves either
It was just us you know

Somewhere in between humid summer nights I made sandwiches
It became an art form
My mother supported this art form by buying cold cuts
I never want to work a job I hate like she did
I hate my job now
I love my mom still
That woman raised me to walk away