Domestic Bliss

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.

Attend south-beach-high-fiber-low-fat-candle-parties.

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!