Opera in 3 Acts

1. For the second day in a row, 2 is wearing the dress I wore at her age. It tickles me that a minor consumer object has held up so long. I think it came from Sears.

2. This is the week of cat opera. Two in the morning, aria and chorus. Six in the evening, duet. I tried to tiptoe and peer between the houses, because I want to see what a cat looks like when it makes that sound like its stomach is being pulled up through its mouth. But they must have a modicum of decency left and stopped when I approached.

3. Yesterday I yelled at 1 in front of her friend because I was so angry at 2's tantrum. I apologized almost right away, but I can't erase how small I made 1 feel. She kept saying she was sorry, sorry, sorry.

The Word is "Okay"

May slips by in innumerable mild days. This blue sky has me by the jowl, like a fish eating a worm on a well-hidden hook. I'm a happy member of the school of okay.

It could be that my life is glorious. I do honestly feel elation when I ride to work (especially when I go to my coffee-shop office) or run errands on my bike and the neighborhood is purring, sun shining, food waiting at a perfect 38 degrees in the fridge: ticktock, this is life, and I shift gears, turn right on C- Street kind of hoping to see handsome D- at work, wondering if I like spring best of all the seasons, trying to remember to read that article on music production studios, thinking I should find out why there aren't any women producers and write an article about it but knowing I won't. Everything's okay, I say to the person who asks me, and it seems the best way to describe how I feel.