I’ve been tricked into domestic bliss.
Behavior alteration with
Soy lattes and strawberry whips
Pavlov’s dog could not resist.
An upward mobile Stepford man.
who salivates at Starbucks cups.
Florescent yellow pee flows freely
in the sweet spot where the beautiful
people glow and flutter with utter disdain.
And God forbid I give the kid
a damn hamburger
or raise my hand in anger.
So I smile and wave and walk the line
no matter what it is I crave.
I trade my whiskey laugh for a golf clap.
I volunteered for social circumcision
in the missionary position; where only
momentary indecision and the
cesarean incision stand between
me and my vasectomy…
Have you met the new-improved
extremely made-over version of
who I really ought to be?
Five pounds from my pre-pregnancy weight
Beaten into a state of reasonable complicity.
But this is the time of my life.
Just ask my wife.
And on third blue moon when the stars line up
We steal a moment to ourselves
and put the rules up on the shelf.
And for those few stolen moments
we allow ourselves to be overcome by ecstasy.
And nothing so sublime as this ever could exist
without the painful sacrifices of Domestic Bliss.
This is one of my poems from my chapbook I just finished editing today. I pulled it out of the closet for the the D'verse second birthday. I am just fumbling around trying to navigate my first upload on to Kindle Amazon. Anyways happy birthday guys!