a poem, a reality, a misnomer
It’s not that I am enviousI do not wish to be them
Watch outit’s a pandemic
Over and over again,we hear them say,
The goal of loveof marriage
Our home is this, just sometimes
When I was thrown under the busI looked at him my person
I keep hearing we are tiredWe are tiredWe are tired
I wash the dishesAnd I am just washing the dishes, just like Thich said.