It is unbearable to think now that I was ever once upset with you
the very idea of that shocks me now
that you're not here
how could I have ever spent one day upset with you
how could that Love ever think it was something
other than what It was?
It is unthinkable that we could have ever yelled
that I could have ever been an ungrateful teenager
that I could have ever done anything other than look
at you and know that I loved you and
think that I had the best mother on earth
because I did.
So how could it be conceivable that I
should have not recognized that
or rather have been on the phone
or out on a date
or writing another one of the
great American unpublished novels
the hallmark of a constantly frustrated generation
I am sorry for the one-one-thousandth of a percentage
of any chance occurrence that I
was ever upset with you.