you find some people had a good great or fun year
so much for the monoculture, you thought you thought
it calmly though, like "huh!" so peacefully you take the news
of others not like your own now when expectations are we're all
miserable now, but some are not. Maybe you're not!
How can you tell another you're not, miserable, that is, or like them?
Your parents just won't understand
your sanded over mind its polished curves
so mystical, must be the goddess of the womb
or hearth (is she the same?) the reverie of rhythms
(who is she?) or just you, the baby, the new rug and the couch.
But no it isn't love, it's absence.
Of pain, or great pain, fear, or old fears, work
or that work, work sucks,
god bless,
long life,
and merry be.
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