Tuesday, April 10, 2007

No Shame

I believe it was you; you who chose a life of scented candles and dull songs on FM radio to play a soundtrack to your time here. I think too, you chose babies and thick gloss latex in easter shades, dripping and puddling around the edges of doors and on the fringes of window panes. Don't look so sad in the snapshots you send me; I'm not one to gloat. Maybe you chose that instead of uncertainty - and a sharp temper. There is no shame in diapers and puree, numb childish songs and sycophantic praise. No shame.