By Jason Kelly Richards
She balances regret
with the same accuracy
as the household bank account.
Trips on the tightrope
separating starched shirts
and early insanity.
Ignores neighbors
who cultivate immaculate
lawns and miserable children.
Observes as the parade
outside her window detours
sharply into impossible arithmetic.
Entertains endless scenarios
pitting old priorities
against new aspirations.
And each afternoon
precisely at six she hides
her best friend in the pantry.
Clutching at Straws 