On a bench near a pond
away from the casino

I mouth a peach.
Hunger tears down to the nut-like core
which I split.

Marveling at the inner seed
I wonder how edible it could be.

Before this curiosity overwhelms my lips
my parents return:
one making up for the other's loss.

I don't remember which.
Years later my mom remembers

that my dad promised ice cream
if I waited in the park
while they gambled.

My dad forgets promises
as I suppose everyone does.