Why is it
that some responsibilities
large as blue whales
still seem like fun at the outset
the simple task of
doing the dishes
feels like some sort of
Herculean undertaking?

I knew a girl of 13
who wanted to get pregnant
because having a baby was
(to her at least)
a never-ending tea party
with the world’s best talking doll.
(Too bad
she couldn’t be bothered
to hand in any assignments.)
Not sure where
this simple child ended up
but god help her if
she’s a mother.
And god help that kid.

Me, I don’t want to scoop the cat box
(which takes all of 3 minutes)
but I’m eager to take on
far more daunting tasks
because some inner drive
urges me onward
as if I’m submitting
a rehearsal tape
to be on Teen Mom.


About semiblind

Bringing you stark existentialism since 1981.
This entry was posted in best-laid plans, poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s