Somewhere

The dial tone sounds different when
I call my mom compared to when
I use it to contact anyone else.
It's gently sprinkling out.
It's been almost five years
since our Mother's Day
weekend in
Manhattan.
I am calling now.
She is on the other side.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.

On 36th Ave at 7:50am,
teenage boys shuffle in hoodies,
girls bound to class in polka dot back packs.

If you wait for the next train
rather than try to cram your way in
there is more space.
No crushing,
a place to sit is likely.
There is more room to move
More room to Breathe.

How in the world did you end up
in New York? asked Leanna.

Whatever happened to the cat I gave you?
Princess, was it? questioned Kori.

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