Scene

In a dark room lit only
by a computer screen a boy
has one hand down his pants,
the other on the mouse,
clicking away.
He is furtive as a diet-breaker,
purse-thief or adulterer.
A door opens or closes somewhere
and he goes pale, and soft, listens.
Mother saunters out of the bathroom
smelling of perfume and cigarettes.
She heads down the stairs
where father is watching t.v.,
and thinks ‘his gut must hide his penis
like a bug in the mud.’
She sits down or maybe waits
for him to speak,
look at her with eyes he has long since lost.
Father grips the remote firmly
with an inward smile,
clicking away;
upstairs the boy is writing America.