You can bitch about quality
all you want
& make your anal
compulsive
lists
the best school
the best fuck
the best career
the best italian
sausage
& then 30 years
removed
or maybe 40
you realize
no one gives a fuck
& neither do you
so you sit down
with a drink
& a small stack of
memories
there are a few plants
that you’d like to water
maybe a cat
or two
worth petting
& it would be nice
if your husband emptied
the dishwasher
but the part of life where you got angry
about what did or didn’t happen
is behind you
the list is less
severe
any school (for your daughter) is okay
any fuck is better than nothing
any career makes sense
in hindsight
& almost any italian sausage
tastes exactly
like it should
