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   Poetry > A Geography of the Heart

The Boston Pizza Incident, or: The 1.8-Kid Family

Tonight Mother brought home a Boston Pizza,
“because Nona likes them.”

Nona reacts “I don’t like Boston Pizza!”
Lana asides “She wants an excuse not to eat.”
Mother frowns “That is a very impromptu dislike.”
Lana asides “Very. She’s just not hungry.”
Mother frets “I bought it there just for you.”
Nona, in the next room, plays loudly.
Mother frets some more. Sets the table.
The rest plunge knives into the pizza.
Mother placates “I’ll clean the red stuff off the pizza.”
Nona sneers “I don’t like that pizza. Take it away.”
Mother pleads “Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich?”
Nona condescends. Combs out Barbie’s hair.
Mother hovers over stove. Makes sandwich.
Nona sulks into the kitchen. Sits on Lana’s chair.
Lana returns from bathroom. Attempts to sit at her place.
Nona contemns “Go aWAY, Lana. Ugh!”
Lana shrugs & stays. Takes up fork & stabs the pizza again.
Nona shoves “Ugh! GO aWAY, Lana!”
Lana looks up. Leaves for a friendlier lap.
Nona cranks. Mother proffers “Here’s your sandwich.”
Nona shrieks “I don’t WANT a grilled cheese sandwich!”
Mother longsuffers “Well, at least I tried.”
Nona grimaces.
Lana smirks.
TV whirrs.

The pizza would rather be in India.

@L.A. Wolanskyj

Published on 01/07/2010

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