A Conversation With My Mom

The night was dark,

she, on the porch stoop,

smoking a Tareyton.

I was sitting on the step

being near my mom.

We just watched a movie,

a dance competition,

the final couples had exhausted

themselves together.

I told my mom,

“I get it.”

She smiled and

touched my cheek,

took a drag of her cig

and I watched smoke

trail off into the night.

I said,

“I know why they shoot horses.”