Domestic Life

A household fades quickly in the mind: you’ve got
to weave your way alone
through the crowd,
the day’s song
on your lips,
the main thing is, you’ve got to curse,
I mean, you’ve got to be able to curse,
what else is socialisation good for,
so, like I was saying, you’ve got to curse
yourself,
fate, this guy, the next guy,
you’ve got to play the solemn number too,
leaf through the newspapers,
get a sense of where things are at,
make sure no one’s looking while you take
a peek at the sun-signs,
and take a good hard look at yourself:
How am I looking just now? Should I
drop down and die? Stuff like that.
Or should I just loll about, day and night,
in the bed over which the mirror’s pegged
and the heck with public policy, scientific advance
and all that crap
but every evening you’ve got to go fetch the
vegetables,
has anybody managed to get out of that?
Get my point . . .

DOMESTIC LIFE