to pretend anymore. Too many
years wearing the fake smiles, along
with the skirts and button-up blouses
with heels that gave me bunions that

hurt following other people’s wishes –
what they thought was best
for me. When I got dressed in
the morning I wasn’t sure who was

leaving the house, who rode on the
train and was chatting it up
up with the boss. And when I came
home and started preparing the dinner

on the stove I didn’t know
why. I just wanted take-out
tonight. And when the alarm clock
growled in my ear the next morning

making me do it all over again
I never question it. I just arose
out of my bed like the dead and went
to my desk and typed on the letter- head

whatever it was that the boss wanted
for the day just to collect the pay that
went toward the bills but never seemed to
be enough. Because they kept piling up.