Try Again

My daughter is looking for answers in
a glass ball of black ink.
            For Sure.
            Try Again.

I say, “Everybody’s good at something. What
are you good at?”
Without hesitating, my daughter says, “Blowjobs.”
This is how it goes without a wife for me,
without a mother for her—
orphaned idiots.
This house is a cavern and there are things
neither of us wants to know.
“We could go to a show,” I say. “Movie and popcorn, gummy bears.”
“Everything sucks,” she says, her bangs a purple mop draped over her face
as she leans so close to the black ball that she could be almost licking it.
“Well then, what make you happy?”
I’m ready for this. We know each other well and not so well.
“Because I’m good at them. At least that’s what they say.”
I come across the kitchen table and
take the chair next to her,
waiting until she looks up, meets my eye.
“What?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Let’s start there.”

Len Kuntz is an writer from Washington State and the author of the story collection, The Dark Sunshine, from Connotation Press. Additionally, he’s an editor at the online lit zine Literary Orphans. You can find him at

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