Teller

I've been reading Bukowski (again) this morning

and last night, too,

so that probably explains this,

but I don't feel the need to apologize 

or even squander another moment here

so

I went to the bank yesterday

parked and walked in, just like in the old days,

and the teller recognized me

said hello

then asked how The Kids were doing.

I said good, thanks, not really Kids anymore,

27 and 24,

and she asked, "Are they still living with you?"
and then a sentence containing the words
 "a home" and "didn't know."

And I'm slow, so I just said yes, they were,
added something

innocuous 
about how bad most community living places are,

(I could but won't tell you some stories)

and it wasn't until I was back in my car

that I remembered a woman I'd briefly dated 

asking me why I hadn't put my kids into a home yet,

as if that's just what you do when you have That Kind of Kid.

And that kind of made me want to go back into the bank 

and say something to that teller,

but shit, she didn't mean any harm,

and she seemed to be a nice lady all in all,

so I just went home and commenced to peck at my liver.