I used to rush home from work,
Especially if I knew my wife wasn’t going to be home yet
And if some asshole tried to cut me off
I’d gun it and curse him out,
Sometimes as we drove side by side.
I wasn’t going to take that shit,
I got cut off enough when I was home with my wife.
I would drive home and the best days were the days
When I had some time to myself before I had to pick her up.
Oh, the feeling of false freedom in those precious minutes!
Later, another good time was reading to my children before bed.
After they would finally fall asleep I would lie in bed with my son
And elongate the moments before I would have to get up
And get into bed with Her.
If I fell asleep in his bed or pretended to she would come and get me.
Finally I had had enough and I told her I wanted a divorce.
Her reaction was to unleash Hell all at once
Instead of little by little like she had been doing for fifteen years or so.
I lost everything and just about everyone I had
But now if I get cut off in traffic
I just stare in wonder at the taillights
Of whoever feels they need to get somewhere before I do
Thinking about a time that feels like decades ago
But was much less than that
When I decided a life of boiling pasta alone in an echoing kitchen
Was better than a living death in a house filled with anger
And that final day that
It was as if I was Yertle the Turtle
And I sneezed down there
At the bottom of the stack
And that bitch came tumbling down.