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MOTHER
by Edward Stever

It’s my first day on the job,
working in the copy room at Xerox.
At a hundred and thirty pounds,
I’m freshly emerged from the mists of anemia.
Patricia is training me,
tells me I can call her “Trish.”
She has short, dark hair,
weighs three-fifty,
and ripples when she walks.
She likes to talk.

A lot.

On break she takes me to a
coffee house around the corner.
We sit.
She monologues.
I listen.
That song, “I Kissed a Girl,”
by Jill Sobule comes on.

Trish makes declaration:
“I am a lesbian.”
I say, “Oh.”
She asks, “You know what
the problem with men is?”
I say, “No.”
She says, “They’re all so egotesticle!” and laughs.
I smile politely, and she says,
“You’re gay, right.” It’s not a question.
“I say, “What…oh…no…anemic.”
She looks at me, puzzled.
The waitress hands me the check.
Trish takes it from me, says,
“I’ll take care of that.”
I look at my shoelaces,
and mumble, “Okay.”

I like her.

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