Horrified,
you realize
it is because of
you
that your child is pacing the auditorium corridors
and throwing up in the art deco bathroom, mezzanine level,
instead of donning her cap and gown,
her jaunty tassel.
You drive away—
leave the city,
leave the state,
leave the story,
all for Good.
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Puff Of Smoke Poems 