(c) 01/16/2022
This time my studio with its small comforts is enough.
The home-sewn quilt and pillows.
A few cracks in need of plaster and fresh paint.
A pipe any plumber could fix. Efficient.
I think that’s the word Agents use
to describe a kitchen, bath, space for a bed.
Comfort makes me lazy and lackluster,
but what have I ever done to earn more or to deserve less?
For years all I have thought about is what I am owed
or due, all loss and no gain.
At another spin around the sun, I am stealing
toilet paper and cups of coffee in the breakroom at work.
Holes in my pantyhose stuck to my skin with lacquer.
I can only stretch my wages so far.
Justice does her best to serve, but I am unbalanced
and struggle to be rational amid the chaos.
A swing and there I sweep butts and leaves
off the Hyatt parking lot wearing $800 suits.
Another spin around the sun and I wonder
if the streets are all the same but am I different
or if this leg of the journey offers new streets
and I am the one who reeks of déjà vu?
It is time for another spin around the sun
and instead of celebrating I’m ruminating.
Where would civilization be without rules,
without procedures and policies?
Where would we be without desire
to right wrongs, to seek redress and remedy?
Justice and I are weighing my childhood memories
stacking them up against todays heart.
We are weighing my reticence to change
against my desire to be someone different.
My dreams against my choices.
I am no more honest than anyone else,
and no braver. Justice does her best.
