Not today, I said,
no snacks in the car for kids
who don’t eat their breakfast,
but here, I said,
and extended my empty right hand
to the back seat, Here
are some pretend snacks.
On the radio, Cake
was singing a song
about wanting
to love someone madly
when my son shouted, Mine,
and my daughter burst, Mine,
and a strident battle ensued
and real tears began
to splash on invisible
snacks being snatched
and seized by four empty,
grasping, hands.