Portrait of Arrogance

You shake your finger, a private cha cha cha,

as you sashay your vacuum around the room.

Hardwood, area rug, it doesn’t matter.

You’re so sure of this one thing,

even alone in your living room,

you stew in your own satisfaction.

Glib is the expression on your face

& though you seem pleased,

you are less attractive for it.

Your simpering mother never begrudged you this;

your dementia-clad father could barely stomach it.

Your ex-lovers already know too well;

the one you're now dating is just about to find out.

It is the reason your older brother calls only on major holidays,

it is why your younger sister likes you best when you are in the woods.

Giddy conceit flickers in & out of your pupils,

a candle hissing in a mild breeze

from the attic window left open the night before.

It is good your acquaintances & neighbors cannot see this.

This is why walls are built, why curtains were invented;

it is the necessity that necessitated doors that can not only close,

but lock. Tight.

(cc) Karen G. Johnston