Marge Tends to Her Houseplants

All these people looking for love,
but what is it all for?

Sailing out, day after day,
then dragging back home—
but what is it all for?

When I had love, it annoyed me.
The pestering at night, the
closeness—

what was it all for?

Now I stand here,
deadheading my cyclamens,
drinking coffee,

enjoying silence
and space.

But what is it all for?

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