habits

It was easier giving up cigarettes 

than it was giving up 

the strange habit of insignificance.

Mom's beauty parlor appointment — sacred. 

Her father's lunch time nap. 

Later, a lover's preference for white 

towels and cloth napkins at dinner. 

It's how it was always done. 

Everybody knew that. Hold back a bit, 

related voices whispered. You can't 

succeed in this setup without stepping back, 

modestly, obedient. 

Once, as they were climbing a narrow path 

to a waterfall, she proposed 

to a lover a pact of mutual admiration 

for purposes of automatic validation, 

seeing how everybody else was always so busy. 

He declined, clinging to his integrity, 

the canyon wall. 

Eventually she fell in love with people 

who rarely did what they promised. 

The intricate dance of justifications 

was so pretty, 

like figures in a minuet, 

complete with smiles, 

powdered wigs, beauty spots.