Gran called Aunt Bee yesterday.
Me and Charlie listened in
on Aunt Bee’s end of the conversation,
even though she tried
real hard to talk soft.
She even turned around
a few times, to make sure
we weren’t there, but she
couldn’t see us from
where she was sitting.
We were there, hiding
behind the candy table,
where Aunt Bee keeps her
chocolate-covered caramels
and her orange wedges
covered in sugar.
And from where we hid
we heard words like addicted
and how long and which facility,
and I don’t know about Charlie,
but now I’m more confused
than ever.
what Aunt Bee drew
on the pad beside the phone,
but she tore it up after
she hung up.