Let them come, invited or not. Let them come, muttering nonsense.
Let them come with their long arms, with booger-yellow eyes, with red-rimmed noses, with dandruff and braces and zits.
Let them come with an eggplant streusel sandwich that you definitely didn’t order.
Let them come, even as you growl “Fuck off, I’m full.”
Let them pry open your ribs and jump on your heart like it’s a hotel bed. Let them barf in your slippers. Let them draw mustaches on everything, even the baby.
Let them come on a herd of tiny blue horses. Let them come, jingling the keys to every room in the haunted castle.
All they want is to be heard, if only by you.