When the Shit Ain't Broke

What next good thing
should you pick?

Your religion
didn't do it,

nor that first love
that got you all gooey or hard
when your mind thought of kissing

What about school?
How's that art history degree,
or the social work thing
going so far?

Maybe the new haircut,
or the way cool condo
out there on the edge
of town
worked
for awhile.

The tough one, of course,
is the kids.
Was their dependency upon you
almost as mighty
as your's
upon them?

I thought as much,
though in that experience
lies a more obvious clue or two
if you don't blink so fast.

My men friends
plug in the moptorcycles
or the women with the biguns,
before all too often
simply coming to rely
on whatever's the special
down at the club
that night.

The women
seem to do it a bit different,
what with the clothes
and the girl time
and the talking talking talking,
though they too
reserve their share
of barstools, and the boyfriends
that come fully equipped.

And for any of us,
at least before the corner sticks us,
like some battery powered choo choo train
trapped under the dining room table,
there's always the curious look
or the dark glazing-over
that comes
at the mere hint
of a thought
that there's nothing to fix
when the shit ain't broke.