the dock they'd push off from when they thought
they were finally good and ready;
the template against which they might model
a life, if not a tiny waistline;
the listening post for their sorrows, the one
to approve their fashion and life choices;
the one who knew not to comment
on the tattoos, the nose and eyebrow piercings;
the one to empty and make do
until empty could apparently be more empty.