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Ambling Regrets

by Lauren Singer

What does it mean when you have reached the point
when all of the things you used to lie about
are now things you've actually done and you
aren't that impressed?

I am a fickle sort of comfortably depressed.
Wishes things were less ordinary but doesn't
want to expend too much energy--
doesn't feel like changing banks.

Do transients do paperwork?
Does paying for my produce mean I have no edge?
I could eat a berry off a bush
but if I'm worried about gastric distress
does it mean that I'm not spontaneous anymore?

I wish I hadn't told all of those people
that I slept with you before I did.
It was such a let down, how hard you made me cum
inside the lie. In real life, you're just as boring
as anyone else. We all are. We all want to be cool.
We're all hiding our skin. We're all wearing our rage
as sensible reactions to maniacal times.

But I used to care less.
Or more, depending.
I used to be a lot of things that
I'm not anymore.

Now I just cry in an office,
wishing things were different
and that I was happier there.

05/04/2017

Posted on 05/04/2017
Copyright © 2020 Lauren Singer

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Rob Littler on 12/08/17 at 07:19 AM

...sounds like you need to find the nearest "ladies night" and not go.

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