three presidents ago
yet you still have
a 913 Kansas area code.
On a ripe Saturday
at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market,
you smile with an out-of-state mouth.
As you bite
into a Central Valley strawberry,
your phone screams.
I hear you welcome
your father’s voice. He’s standing
before his Kansas window.
Published in Ginosko Literary Journal (Page 94, 2021)