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My mother was born 53 years ago today.
On the phone she uses the word "Fuckin" about 16 times.
It's a three minute conversation.
She feels 35, she says.
The barista at Starbucks who, she claims, is my age,
was about to ask her on a date
when she dropped the bomb that she could be his mother.
He told her to stick with the green tea because it was working.

Remember last night when I talked to you at 12am
while I paced my kitchen, the cold black painted wood floor
numbing my socked and dragging feet.
Remember I had my pants unbuttoned almost unzipped completely
while I ate peanut butter out of the jar with a fork,
the curtains open, a street man digging at the recycling bin
across the street.
Remember that part when you asked me to stay on the phone
because you were just getting in bed and the last thing you wanted
to hear before sleep was my voice, I cringed.
Remember the part when I accused you of thinking I was drunk,
but I only had one drink I said.
Which was a lie, I had three, four if you count the wine.
But it was over time. And I used water as a mixer.
It was already four am then, on the east coast
and I imagine mother was pacing her floors, followed
by her border collie, twisting and pulling at her rats nest of a hairdo with worried
53 year old fingers,
a robe open over her men's pajamas, feet bare and whispering on the
lush carpet of her home.
Yeah she was probably up. Age ticking at her.

My mother said that her husband and mother forgot it was her birthday.
i did not. Haven't for years.

I went to bed in silence, wihtout the fan
I woke up twice.
I got some water at 3 am.
I did not toss.
I did not turn.

She says that she's getting a massage
that everything is "really really great"
She thanks me for the flowers
my brother sent, and I remember to call him.