Taxes

Hundreds of small, white slips
some faded, some new
document all the wrong details of my life.

I've shopped at the worst stores -
the ones that pay pennies
to sell all the plastic things.
Each time I went in the automatic doors
for a bargain
my dear values stayed outside
breathing quietly on the glass,
waiting.

It's easy to ask

"What are the choices?"

and harder to make the right ones.

Big Oil lurks in my lip balm

and Chinese factory workers

hum at me through the reeds

in the basket on the basement steps.

Evil came in disguise

as all my favorite things

and I bought it,

so cheaply I almost thought

I was the one with the upper hand.