My mom works to be busy, and hurts herself. She sleeps on the floor until she can move again. Then she works again, until she hurts again. For no reason and no pay.

She talks on the phone and laughs aloud. Her friends drop by with no warning. Her dogs leap around her feet.

The sun is warm on her red face.

My dad sleeps all day and watches TV all night. He never works, and doesn't know how to, if he dared. He waits for the day somebody dies, and leaves him rich enough to stay drunk.

The phone rings and he jumps. He lets it go to the answering machine. He's afraid of the people who drive by, because "they see me."

The sun never touches his pale face.

I'll work for something, but not for nothing. I enjoy the peaceful times, when there's no carrot or stick, nothing to gain or loose.

Sometimes I answer the phone. I have lunch and margaritas with coworkers. My couch has a deep well, where I sit and watch TV.

Light folds over my tan skin.

I must be a hybrid.