of the computer screen.
Again, I attempt my adaptation
of seeing this everyday.
Instead of work,
I wax romantic over shots
of Tequila in our poorly
air-conditioned house, and savor
the charm of new pursuits.
I know he is out there
earning the pay
that lacquers our life
with a sweet
that sleeks the sour away.
I want to justify
my sitting static here;
even when he celebrates
and proclaims my progress.
I must memorize this:
I am necessary here
if for nothing more
than for him.
Andrea Jazwiecki 2004