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Kharan Badri

Does This Spark Joy?

                                 I.

How alien other people’s homes seem, 

though near-identical to our own. 

The framed photos of forebears peering 

through the sepia-tinted past & of beloved 

grandchildren smiling gap-toothed at 

kindergarten graduations. Your parents’ 

wedding portrait bestride yours

—donning the same robin-blue dress as 

your mother 30 years prior, twins in time. 

                                II.

The same overfull bookshelves with titles 

never read nor thumbed through. 

They're intended to convey studied sophistication

—a liberal education, a progressive mind. 

To imply you devour the latest advances in 

philosophy, global affairs, meditative discourse, 

contemporary poetry, self-care treatises, 

heartwrenching memoirs from refugees fleeing war, 

& the New York Times Best Sellers collections 

of prose. All ample evidence of an 

ink-stained finger on the pulse of pop culture 

amidst a forest of classic literature leather-bound 

& embossed, denoting the works of Nabokov, 

Chaucer, Rabelais, Milton, Cervantes, Blake,  

Voltaire, Flaubert, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, 

Joyce, Kafka, Eliot, Borges, & a 

dozen more literary luminaries besides. 

                               III.

Fingers crossed, nobody discovers you’ve only 

ever spark-noted “Lolita” & inherited the set from 

your great-aunt. A semi-famous hostess in 

her day—her parties were well-attended by 

the period's somewhat accomplished artists. 

Yet, they were never the true geniuses or 

polestars of the aesthetic zeitgeist. 

                               IV.

The literary props sit upon rustic reclaimed wood, 

maintaining the pretense of barn-dominium decor 

in this cookie-cutter mid-century build in 

the suburbs of your state’s fourth-largest metroplex. 

The schools, amenities, & cuisine are all 

a beat past passable. You feel bad for wanting 

more from life when so many have so little 

compared to your creature comforts. 

                                V.

Still, the averageness makes your heart ache for 

the greener grass in the state’s third-largest 

metroplex. There, they don’t accept Groupons 

at the Cheesecake Factory & have a supercute 

drive-in-theatre that sells $14 glasses of wine 

for Friday Date Nights Under The Lights to 

parents who hire your niece & her friends 

to babysit their children. 

Those kids go to schools a bit bigger, 

a few percentile points ahead on 

standardized testing, a win or two more in 

their high school football team’s column. 

Their booster club outraises y’all by a couple 

thousand dollars & drives midsize SUVs a year

newer than yours to homes with a tad more 

square footage they say makes all 

the difference in their families’ feng-shui. 

You wonder if they’re right. 

Is the energy more free-flowing 

thanks to that extra 37sf & .03 acres of 

a backyard where they fit in a tire swing on 

which your overbooked niece pushes 

those damned kids for hours as 

the summer sun fades to dusk?

Escape.jpg

THE COURTSHIP OF WINDS

© 2015 by William Ray

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