99poems/ironing

He likes to say
he enjoys ironing
his shirts.
He enjoys saying
he enjoys ironing
his shirts,
more than he
enjoys ironing
them.
I am quite
the same.
I enjoy ironing
too.
And yet these
shirts build up
on their waiting
hooks,
like sedimentary
rock seen through
time-lapsed
photography.

I enjoy gardening
too.
Even to tell the
truth, cleaning
house.
I like cooking,
sorting, filing.
And yet the
yard is full
of weeds, and the
floors need
sweeping.
What on Earth’s
for dinner,
and why am I
so deprived
of pleasure?

6/16/99