“Baudelaire regularly begged his mother for money throughout his career, often promising that a lucrative publishing contract or journalistic commission was just around the corner.” – Wikipedia

Since middle of March,
every time I stir up another drama
to borrow money from Mama,
from her retirement fund,
my mask ensures that she doesn’t
see my mouth break out instantly 
into widest grin every time she hands me 
the peso bills grudgingly—again and again. 

Not that my drama has always been all made up,
as the desperation has always been real—
and will be real again.
Anyway, thank God for my Mama
who always bails me out—
again and again!

(Now how do I hide my eyes 
when I don’t want nobody
to see me cry?
I guess a face shield
with a dark tint,
I’ll buy.)