it’s funny

how we are the worst
we’ll ever be
to the people we
most care for

you just wouldn’t
think it
would work out
that way

but sure enough
I exchange
such jovial compassion
with cashiers and mailmen
bartenders
men in bathrooms
waitresses
gas station clerks
the boy at the theater
who tears my
ticket

and it’s only when
they begin
getting closer
lingering for a few
moments more
that I can feel
our sympathy
for one another
sliding away
like a dull
dream

as I keep the attention
of the boy at the theater
by asking
the way
to the restroom

as the gas station clerk
winces
when I discuss
the weather
or The World Series

as the waitress refills
my burnt coffee
and makes
substitutions
for my indecisive wife

as the men in bathrooms
piss and grunt

as the bartenders
tell the same
tired jokes
and I order
the same tired drinks

as the mailman
delivers a
package
and tells me
about his exhaustion

and the cashier
at Wal-Mart
double bags my meat
before slipping it
into another
bag with
carpet cleaner
and lemon scented Joy

we are the worst
to the people
we most care for

and there’s some
injustice in that
as if we’re being
slowly screwed
into the wall

and all we can think about
is the weight of the frame
never considering
even for a second
the smiling faces
underneath the glass