Mother, Daughter, Pharma

It's still early in the season
But when I walk by the church
With the janky donation thermometer
Painted on its front wall
The red bar still looks so small
It's still mostly white

These days I'm just observing
Watching quicksand conversations
I see my friends backslide
And I'm waiting for a time when they'll forget me
I hope they forget me
Because lately I can't see
What I used to love so much
About this ugly room I keep singing to

It's Wednesday morning
In the parking lot of the Pharmaprix
I see a mother around forty-three
And her daughter, fourteen, fifteen
And they're fighting in French so I can't make out the language
I can just see the exhaustion on the mother's hollow face
And how the daughter simply hates her
With that blinding, burning meanness only teens get
Like she has to
Like her mom did to her mom
Like we all do
And the mother loves her so much that she's constantly terrified

What she can't say but is everywhere
Is a shivering plea
Possibly the same sentiment mirrored in each of them
"You've got the rest of your life to be angry
You've got the rest of your life to be angry
For right now, just pretend that you like me
For just a little while
Be nice to me."