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Bagel

Yesterday, you said you worried
about my lack of self-sufficiency
When I can’t find the scissors,
I ask you for help, but
you shoo me away and say,
“I won’t be there for you in two years.
Your college roommates won’t
find the scissors like I do.”

Today, you said you worried
about my dangerous habits:
I cut my bagels with butter knives,
not with the serrated ones near the stove,
I walk with pencils point-up and
“Any minute you could fall and that thing
would stab your eye out.”
But your worry is love.



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