My stomach twists again at another decision to join the faceless
the maze of fences in my backyard --
the soccermom utopia of my neighborhood --
the constant disappointment that we can't afford some new unnecessary thing --
This is not what I believe in.
This is not what I work for.
This is not who I am.
When does the weight of compromise become too insidious to ignore?
When did I agree to a lifetime indentured to posessions I don't believe in?
How do I cancel that contract without losing the one who makes my life worthwhile at all?
I don't;
I swallow it again.
Leave the television on.
Leave.
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