Yielding

When you rev your diesel 4 x 4 and congest Main Street with fumes and fury,
your pathetic bid to dominate and genital insecurities are on full display.

And when you write things like that, you’re displaying…
STOP! I know. But we’re human. We snipe.

You’re human. You give gifts.
We’re human. We give black eyes.

You’re human. You pull weeds.
We’re human. We pull rank.

You’re human. You prepare meals.
We’re human. We prepare for war.

You’re human. You seek the Truth.
We’re human. We seek revenge.

You’re human. You aspire to…
STOP! I can’t take another round. We no longer seem to aspire.

Let’s wait a bit before you look in the mirror this morning.
I wonder what a brush of hope on your cheeks might do.

Why bother? This is the way I look.

The eyebrows could be darker, more expressive.  
And the lips. What do you think about ruby red?

STOP! I’m awake. I know my face. And my fate.

You know neither. Yield the right-of-way. Let them roar by.
Yielding feels like being gutted. I’m not good at sacrifice.

Come sit with me. I’ll braid your wispy hair,
and we can wash the dishes together.

That sounds like a terrible idea.

I’ll rinse. You dry. And thus, our light will have shone where it matters.
We don’t dry our dishes. We let the air do that.

That’s right. We’ll let the air do that.

****** ****** ****** ****** ******

For more uplifting, cheery poems and conversations just like this, you can order our book from the YOU KNOW WHO online and for a mere $13.99, you can torment your soul every day. Also, I am now posting on Substack, and may drift there as my primary place to post.