152 or Raze

We buzzed our son’s head in the backyard.
Your paisley blanket draped over his shoulders.
Now he’s fifteen,
gone ‘til dark with no appetite.
Clatter, clatter.
I hear him in his room.
He’s got a girl taking up the line.
And we listen to his declarations of love.
I look at you and wonder why you
want to leave.
“The difference is there.”
Oh, don’t I know it.
We get groceries together.
You wait in the car.
I want to ask why,
but the answer is worse than my ignorance.
I lend you the car after work.
You meet the girls and smell of cheap gin.