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“I never found a home in the arms of a man.”
            -Diane Keaton
 
 
I couldn’t explain to my friend
why I felt so pessimistic. 
She kept telling me there were
plenty of good women out there
as I tried to tell her
it’s not that simple. 
 
Maybe she believes in fairy tales,
or carries the power of prayer
in her pocketbook, or somehow
can see Lady Luck waving
her magic wand to find herself
a nice boyfriend.
 
Her cheery approach wasn’t helping
for I could tell a different tale,
one of feeling less than a man and
more like a commodity, simply
to be a male picked out to
play the role of man
 
in some woman’s stage play
of marriage.  It has unfolded
so much that I always
ask myself the same question:
What will I have to sacrifice
this time?
 
Maybe one day it all
works out, but I don’t wish
upon any stars.  I go on, but
always wondering if I’ll end up
like that actress, but instead
I find no woman’s arms
 
I can call home.