POWER LINES

I watched everybody on the dance floor.
Some were my friends,
some were strangers. It was a relief
not to be asked to join them all, I just stood there
drinking my cup of coffee.
I didn’t like talking with people
and telling them what I had been up to
since we last saw each other.
They’re back home again, in the rain.
They’re back home, in their backyards
as the fog rolls in. 

It was a small group
of people, but still too big for me.
I had nothing to protect, and that angered me.
Their happiness is not my happiness.
If I had their happiness, it would be painful
for everyone. Their marriages
are not for me. Their children are not for me.
Their careers are not for me. Their houses and cars
are not for me. Their medical plans and educations,
and smiles and photographs, and little league games
and investments are not for me. I will just take
what others have done for me. Their gingham dresses
and summer suits are not for me. 

I followed the rail, but it just kept going.
I didn’t sleep under the stars but I stayed close to the earth—
anything to stay out of the factories
anything to stay out of the cubicles
anything to stay out from behind the check-out counter.

(May 31, 2012)