BILL

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 BILL


Anyone else cry after talking to their tax guy
before there’s a bill is due? “I just want 
you to have a happy life.”He explains. 

A happy life.

Like when I was a happy wife?
When poetry was crawling through my hair like Medusa’s snakes? When I was looking up
body art of Charybdis for my calfs before six am,
trying to externalize my rage, my self-betrayal?

What if, Bill, for this woman, a happy life is one
where men who “know better” don’t say shit?

What if, instead, she is free to make bold and courageous messes in any color she please sans your commentary, except what you’ll need for write offs? 

What if, Bill, for this woman a happy life is one where the poverty she shields her children from is not measured in dollars and cents, but instead in thoughtless time spent? 

Save your authority, Bill, for someone who’ll respect it. I did not go through the agony of divorce for someone else to set my course. 

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