sometimes i don't get you

i have spent 31 years trying to understand so many things.

i tried to understand my parents.
she cried in the 76 oldsmobile station wagon if she didn't eat by the next damn mile marker.
he told her that she couldn't have dessert on her 45th birthday because she didn't need it.

i tried to understand myself.
my tenuous line between crying and cruelty.

and tonight, after a movie at the belcourt, one last drink at jacksons, and another series of sevens, i determined that i will no longer try to understand. instead i'm just gonna listen.

to the voice that told her to shut up- she wouldn't starve.
to the voice that told him to go fuck himself- it was her birthday.
to the voice that told me to move to gartland avenue- i'm gonna make it.