tired

It occurred to her that people were starting to look funny at her when they said thank you and it didn’t feel good. Like when the taste goes away from ice cream and music sounds inside-out.
But when she mailed herself a letter with a stamped self-addressed envelope enclosed, not counting on a reply, she understood.
The world is hungry, she said
But I have just two tits and they’re both spoken-for
And besides they’re empty
And besides I can’t find the key
Because she’d left it under the doormat which she didn’t want to be but ever since people had stopped looking funny to her when they said thank you she was no longer sure.

It occurred to her that she could stop for a minute or maybe a few
Stop hauling the rocks she was hauling from one side of the bridge to the other
And back again
Stop because she had lost count anyway, so even when the bridge did fall, her results would be inconclusive
And she said, the world is hungry
But we just used up the soup and I’m out of bowls
And who said I could cook anyway
And besides, nobody had anointed her the queen of philanthropy she’d just volunteered, written the job description herself
And her feet hurt from kicking broccoli under the doormat and from jumping on it to make sure it flattened down okay

It occurred to her that the list of people waiting for soup was not her list, and while her help with the stirring was welcome, nobody would mind if she ceded the ladle
That the rocks would eventually roll down the hill and land where they landed and nobody would notice when she stood up and said
Look! Rocks! They should not be so rocky like that. It’s unjust
Because most people were planting broccoli and washing out their doormats, or bleaching them and beating them on the rocks to get the dust out
And the dust was mixing in with the soup but that was okay
Because she had only one tit and it was on hiatus and the other one was a disguising itself as an elbow
So she stopped.

question: why

mompoet - why not