3. The Lesser Evil
shaves so you don’t see
stubble. They brush their teeth,
gather cash for the pool boy.
They pray and pray. When
the family wakes up, it’s eggs
and toast, sunny side up and whole
grain, oj and coffee. It’s smiles
and butter. It’s batteries dying
in cell phones. It’s shadows
of other faces’ façades. “The talk”
happens, half-hearted, and the lesser
evil warns sternly, finger pointed,
their lips a line of meaning,
against Bobby taking another
toke and a “third strike” for Julie,
who never wanted a child
of her own, anyway. Bobby,
sleeping up possibilities swirling
in his yolks, says “You know,
you are just the worst.” The lesser
evil grins because they know this
isn’t true. And so they smile.
They eat, and they live elsewhere
sitting there. They all laugh as if
this moment is the best of all
worlds. All the faces they wear
are perfect, and no one
would dare think otherwise.