She wants a pet as badly
as I don’t want one.
I love animals
but the addition of one
would so clearly topple
the duct-taped compilation
of our lives.
She asks anyways,
while also constantly adopting
outside pets,
like slugs and moths.
Recently, she proclaimed
that an old chair,
which she had decorated
with cardboard boxes and rope,
was a baby dragon.
I was quiet
for a long time.
“Ok, we can keep him.”
She hugged me tight
and said “thank you, mama,”
so I scratched one box
as though it was a chin
and told the dragon
he was adorable,
and then
just like that
he was.
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