“Baudelaire regularly begged his mother for money throughout his career, often promising that a lucrative publishing contract or journalistic commission was just around the corner.” – Wikipedia
Since middle of March,
every time I stir up another drama
to borrow money from Mama,
from her retirement fund,
my mask ensures that she doesn’t
see my mouth break out instantly
into widest grin every time she hands me
the peso bills grudgingly—again and again.
Not that my drama has always been all made up,
as the desperation has always been real—
and will be real again.
Anyway, thank God for my Mama
who always bails me out—
again and again!
(Now how do I hide my eyes
when I don’t want nobody
to see me cry?
I guess a face shield
with a dark tint,