School Run

out of bed.
out of bed again.
the shower sputters.
where’s the uniform?
the sister's screaming—
"she’s a biarch,"
teeth unbrushed,
ipad dead.
“can I get tuckshop?”
“do I have to eat this lunch?”
who ate the last damn avocado?

it’s late.
it’s always late.
socks on. shoes on.
kids yelling,
"I want the front seat!"
"No, I want the front seat!"
the car groans.
I groan louder.

dad, my sister sucks.
drive.

“what’s at school today?”
“nothing.”
“nothing.”

"bye, dad."
"have a good day."
but don’t park close,
don’t let anyone see me.
stop a block away.

they tumble out.
sigh.
drive.
gone.