not a pilgrim

i could never have
come over on the mayflower,
she tells me while
having dinner one
night on the balcony
of her high rise
apartment. i mean
i'm all for religious
freedom and all that,
but i can barely
stand to share a cab
with a stranger.
i mean, eating lard
and pototoes and fish
for ninety days. i
can't even eat a piece
of salmon but once a
month. i mean where
would we go to the bath
room. i just can't go
when other people are
around, it just doesn't
work that way. i need
to shut the door and
turn the water on. yeah,
i tell her, i agree, i
can barely get on
a bus, or a metro train
without going stir crazy.
did they even have deodorant
back then? have you
ever been in a seven-
eleven on a hot summer's
day when the workers
come in for hotdogs,
whew. imagine being on
the mayflower for months,
bobbing like a cork
on the ocean. we're
just not pilgrims are
we, she says, and raises
her glass to make a toast.
what about a pioneer,
i ask her, could you
be a pioneer? nope, she
says, no wagon train
for me either. indians
shooting arrows at us,
rattlesnakes, baked
beans 24-7, just shoot me.