A water main broke, flooding a dream yard.
It was an emergency that my unconscious brain couldn’t
fathom, except as a reason to call my mom.
She was unavailable in all the ways she was
always unavailable: scattered, unfocused,
unable to see me as anyone other than a mixed-up teenager.
I gave up on her, in all the ways I learned to give up on her.
I turned an oily gear and shut down the main, even as I
kept listening to the thin, strange strands of her voice.