settling in white america

All across
Middle america
There are
the fathers

There they are
tucked away
In their garages

Hiding in their
Lined with plywood

Hiding in their
Armed with power tools

What can I build?
to keep occupied

Keep from thinking?

Keep from
on the
Current boredom
my life

They sulk in their garages
Escaping their wives

The women they
Choose to die with

She makes his meals
She excuses him

She has her space
A sewing room,
A knitting corner,
The kitchen

She makes for him
For the family

If only
she could fill
Or cover up
All this empty

would be happy?

Decades of sitting parallel
in separate chairs

Fill the space
tiny versions
of themselves

Follow all the rules

Wheel of fortune
During dinner time

Dream of fortunes

“Life would be
so much better
if we only
won the lottery”

We’d have enough money
To have more spaces
Big big spaces

We’d fill them
With things
To ignore each other

To fill
In between
the span
Of a settled life



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