With Frenemies Like You, Who Needs a Mother?

Everyone knows the striped towels hang on the wall,

chocolate and mushroom in the cabinet, alternating hues

set the tone at calm. (Folds outs, ends tucked in, please.)

I’m not sure why the wash cloths don’t need the same

discontinuous pattern – don’t question my reasoning,

I won’t answer your inconsistency.

You don’t see the patterns, plaid pieces of self-control

weaving in and out of composed.

It’s all about the laundry; I won’t air my dirty linens.

I’m not sure why I didn’t marry a nice boy out of school,

but I do know when I use that towel, I need to wash it.