Do Say A Few Nice Things About People’s Homes When You Visit
The place is new,
built from the ground up,
big wide rooms, newly painted
a few pictures freshly hung.
There’s no stray hair in the bathroom
or scuff marks on the linoleum.
I stand awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot,
following from room to room,
the beer bottle in my hand
quickly emptied
now starting to sweat.
Look, the closet, she says,
and we walk in,
clothes tumbling off hangers
and piling on the floor.
All this space, she says
and I still don’t have enough room.
I smile and nod, I try to think of something nice to say.
And this, she tells me, will be the baby’s room.
She sighs. Eventually, she tells me.
Soon, I tell her, to say something helpful.
Please she says, a baby is the least I’ll get out of that sonofabitch.
You don’t know what it’s like, she says, turning to look at me.
Living with him.
Come downstairs, she says with a wide smile,
I’ll show you the holes he punched in the basement walls.
Not to Be Happy Is Not Just a Misfortune, It Is a Failure
Smile,
the man
on the subway tells me.
Pretty girl like you,
what you got
not
to be
smiling about?
It’s the least
you can do, he tells me,
For the rest of us.
