The Most Difficult of Things
is not marriage or parenting
or learning to sew.
not programming or finals
or burying your in-law.
What is most difficult is
Living without pretending, that is.
And about what are we pretending, dear reader, you ask?
We pretend that our actions and our agendas
make any sense
when they make no more sense
than walking into your backyard
to stare at some grass–
or to scream from the top of your lungs.