Wednesday, July 27, 2005


Before they go in, the women have wan smiles. The men look embarrassed and helpless.

When they come out, the women are no longer smiling. The men look embarrassed and helpless. They drive their cars to the side of the clinic.

I have no regrets and I am not asking myself "what if?" I do not care what if. I have too many other "what if"s that are causing me pain.

The women in the back room are giggling. It is Friday, the weekend approaches. I can't remember when the weekend stopped meaning anything to me. Weekends are like weekdays with less work. I don't know whether I like them. The women are nice. I think nice is a coat you wear when you cannot be good.

I am good but if I'm nice, you might feel I'm faking it. Maybe I am. Does it count if you just don't think about it, if you play it as though it was your nature? Does it become your nature if you play the role often enough?

It costs three hundred dollars to terminate a pregnancy. I don't know what you do if you are poor.


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