From henceforth, I will leave the knife and fork akimbo, on opposite sides of the table if I can.
I will wear the socks until holes are all they are.
And I will ride the clutch so very, very much.
I will eat the Quorn you always, but always, said yuck to.
I will fail at skimming stones and not care that mine sink without trace and never bounce.
Not even once.

From henceforth, I will stop feeling small and silly and lacking in comparison with you.
And I will properly own all the reasons your snark upset me.
Because the comparison was always on your terms.
My failings held up against all you could already safely do.
No consideration given to what I was…what I am good at.
Because where’s the “fun” in that?

From henceforth, I will forget your manners, your rules and your so-called teasing.
Because that’s not really what it ever was, as you well know.
Although I might – just – feel sorry that you can’t leave the knife and fork be.
Even when they’re not on your own fucking plate.

Mike Hickman (@MikeHic13940507) is a writer from York, England. He has written for Off the Rock Productions (stage and audio), including a 2018 play about Groucho Marx. He has recently been published in the Blake-Jones Review, Bitchin’ Kitsch, the Cabinet of Heed, the Potato Soup Journal, and the Trouvaille Review.

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