It's happy hour in suburbia,
ice cubes tinkling in the glass,
a festive feeling until the third drink,
when voices grow loud and discontent
is everywhere.
is everywhere.
The children, big-eyed and silent,
move from in front of the television
to the farthest bedroom.
All of the ways
All of the ways
wives and husbands exhibit despair
are on display in slurred speech,
which escalates.
I got off that bus to nowhere in 1972.
When I turned forty, I changed my life.
My job was deadening my dreams;
my spirit and all hope was dying.
It was then or never, so, to save my life,
I gave up the management job,
the first decent paycheque I had ever earned,
gathered all the trust I could muster,
and took a leap over the mountains
to a wilder shore. Holes in my sneakers,
three jobs at a time, the struggle was real,
but so was the exhilaration - joy
on a daily basis for ten long years.
Now, at the end of the road, at the edge of the world,
my happy hours are full of cackling crones,
my happy hours are full of cackling crones,
with ungovernable hair and interesting attire,
looking back at adventures we never could have
imagined, back in those lives the 50's
programmed us for: those little houses all in a row,
a car in every driveway, and enough drinks
at happy hour to make it through.
For Brendan at Desperate Poets: Desperate in Suburbia. I've got the t-shirt for that one, but thankfully it didnt last long.
Ouch - you have painted such a dire picture of suburbia. Ha - not sure I can quite identify with that, though some people might. Smiles.
ReplyDeleteI love that you've landed with the crones with the unkempt hair - I'm yet to find that safe haven although my hair is heading there already . This prompt got to me and I let rip with a rave about my current suburban idyll. :) Suzanne - Wayfaring - wordpress blog
ReplyDeleteWhen I turned forty, I changed my life.
ReplyDeleteMy job was deadening my dreams;
- that resonates 100% because I did exactly that too...at 42 I gave up my corporate job and have never regretted it since. More power to you, Sherry, such an inspiration. I hope my happy hours will be filled with people like you.
Congrats on getting free of the suburban choo choo, fueled by all those martinis! You saw what was coming -- and leapt. Getting free of suburban desperation is perhaps the greater theme. I stuck it out in suburbia (and professional work) but have stayed faithful to this rebel well deep inside, tucked away in the darkest hour or two before the day begins.
ReplyDeleteLove the edge to this Sherry and the cackling crones with the ungovernable hair, and the hours can still be happy! JIM
ReplyDelete