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Someone Like My Niece

at the party i chance to sit next to her
on a white covered sofa
we are so careful not to stain it
watching the food that we fork
the orange juice that we drink from a shiny glass
no drops please
her mother warns, she's is my sister
too concerned about her furniture

she likes her hair long and falling
like herself i suppose falling into a
certain despair, her mother, unable to
accept, she pretends she is more concerned
about the fate of her new rosewood
furniture

' i do not like myself' she whispers to
her glass half filled with tequila,
she sets aside the orange juice
too mild, she quips,

' i like to run away from her' she
insists, telling me that no one understands her here
that this house is full of indifferent people

i fix my gaze at the TV pretending i am not interested.
there is this soap opera about a mom who just lost
her son to a war somewhere in Jolo.

how can a mother's love be so misunderstood?
the mother knows how to pretend, and the daughter
drowns herself inside the bubbles of a glass wine

tequila, i am sure about that..

' i like the love story most. The brother takes his brother's girlfriend
and he punishes himself at the end. Tears and death.'
I am evading
her leading questions.

she's groggy. She leaves me and says she is sleepy. She goes to her
room and locks the door.

Then i tell myself, this world is fair. I am lucky not to have someone
like that niece. I am alone but not sad. Anyway,

the soap opera ends. Something new crops up tomorrow.
A twist of fate. But i will not watch anymore.I had enough.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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