Scenic Suburbia

Inspired by Trouble in Tahiti

where the neighborhoods all are kempt,

tidy and clean, and the neighbor’s smile and wave,

it is all just a veil

in a tiny beige home with a nuclear family,

where the teapot whistles

just-a-little-bit too long because

the woman in a floral dress is

too exhausted to get up to stop the burner,

a polka-dotted tablecloth and

a vase full of roses that might-as-well be wilting

sets the scene

in between the man with a suite and tie

and the woman in a floral dress,

the ivory-green wallpaper might-as-well be chipping,

the faucets might-as-well be growing mold and grease

and springing leaks,

the man sits cross-legged in a wooden dining chair,

rustling his newspaper oh-so-violently

while the woman flinches as he slurps

from his coffee

and his wrestling match with the daily newspaper

might as well be a barrage of hellfire pummelling down as blows

to the woman’s dolled-up face.

the woman stares at her lukewarm coffee

with lipstick stains on the rim of the mug

with a gaze that travels thousands upon thousands of miles-per-hour

and transcends time

to a simpler place,

she went to school to be a botanist,

now her dreams manifest through the lawn’s magnificent garden

that is horrifyingly superficial,

so much so that sometimes it provides

an escape from the her matrimony,

and the crooked smiles,

and the fake orgasms,

and those kisses on the cheek while he leaves her alone at home

all day as she is expected to keep this hell-hole of her's clean,

the only escape the man performs

is through his midnight strolls to the southern parts of town

where he slinks past the corner brothels with craving eyes

but he never quite pulls the trigger,

not because of his admiration for monogamy,

but because of his own personal jealousy,

and his desire to arrest is wife’s sexuality,

the scene is serenaded with a symphony,

a symphony of sighs, slurping, and rustling,

that will extend every day until the b*****d croaks

or the dumb b***h kills herself by sticking her head in the oven

after making delicious brownies for the last time.

scenic suburbia,

underneath the veil,

the idyllic-little-hell.

Author's Note

I don't know what I am doing with my life.