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a poem by Kane X. Faucher
This Starched Life
This starched life
comes with designer doubts
and all conviviality comes with coasters.
Routine replaces the raucous,
and ingenuity is in a dry loop.
This starched life
organizes its cutlery by type
and public faces are never brave
but rather spotless.
This starched life
efficiently prioritizes its time
so that so much gets done in a day
but by the end of it you don't
remember any of it.
This starched life
beds early, rises early,
and commutes itself raw
in the mundane see-saw
of clock-time back-and-forth.
This starched life
votes with its fear
under the sign of economics
goes to the ballot box
while the heart bleeds at home,
in a drawer
filled with knick-knacks, souvenirs,
and other impedimenta
to this starched life.
comes with designer doubts
and all conviviality comes with coasters.
Routine replaces the raucous,
and ingenuity is in a dry loop.
organizes its cutlery by type
and public faces are never brave
but rather spotless.
efficiently prioritizes its time
so that so much gets done in a day
but by the end of it you don't
remember any of it.
beds early, rises early,
and commutes itself raw
in the mundane see-saw
of clock-time back-and-forth.
votes with its fear
under the sign of economics
goes to the ballot box
while the heart bleeds at home,
in a drawer
filled with knick-knacks, souvenirs,
and other impedimenta
to this starched life.