8.14-8.20: Potatoes

The triangle never chimed.
But the warm smell of potatoes
Told me it was supper time.

Mom mixed it with beef,
Corn, and cheese for good measure.
My favorite thing to eat.

It is her birthday today.
I want to say it to her face,
But no wishes come her way.

She’s still alive and well.
Though, maybe not well.
Alive, nonetheless. Hell,

I think I can smell the potatoes 
If I really try.

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