Pelvis with the Distance
Georgia O’Keeffe, 1943
Joseph R. Trombatore

I hate clutter

wing backs
crammed against a blazing fireplace
cranberries & maple leaves
piled on the mantle
plush throw pillows with tassels
big as elephants
for that perfect, Country Living cover

I hate lies

the curve of consonants
“I wills” & “ok’s”
after hanging up the phone
the rolling of the eyes
only mirrors are privy to
sunsets that are hidden
behind tall town homes, skyscrapers

I hate the things

which you seem so content with
the daily grind of coffee bean
& bombs
that make so many colors mingle
morning headlines into evening
that require heavy revisions

I hate not being able

to see where I am going
when the race is so full of debris
I hate the ability of numbers
to control my every breath
press 1 for yes
or 2 for no

& let the survey begin

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