you have thirty minutes to complete this test

i was never

a good test taker.

i'd sweat,

shake,

get the heebie jeebies

as i stared

at the forty multiple

choice questions

on my desk.

i was

nervous as a cat

in a room full

of rocking chairs.

the teacher would always

shake their heads

when they handed back

my test with an F,

still crinkled with my sweat.

each one of them

would say

with a sigh,

we thought you were

smarter than that.

do you know a good HVAC guy, i ask her

she's my

go to when i need a plumber,

or HVAC person.

she pulls

out her phone

and gives me the name of a guy

in Maryland.

he has

two trucks, she says,

and his workers

are all very clean.

if i need

a caterer for a party,

she's got the girl

in Twinbrook

who can cook and bake cakes,

DJ too. she gives her

a raving

four-star review.

landscaper, no problem.

call this guy,

she says, rattling off the number.

he's from Venezuela

and a very

good crew.

got an itch?

go to my

doctor, he found a spot

on my back that no one

else had

ever seen, he's very thorough

and his waiting room

has all the latest

magazines.

the pearl clutching protesters

there's

the usual gaggle of old women

and beta men

on the bridge,

the overpass

to the highway

protesting with their

homemade signs.

it's the local

knitting club,

the book club, the community

gardening group

specializing in mulch.

they're upset

about the President, the war,

the arrests

of illegal immigrants

committing

murder and rape

and other crimes.

they're out there now

supporting

the mom

who strangled her children

with an exercise band,

chasing one

one of them around the house

until he was caught.

but it's not her fault

they chant and yell.

it's the patriarchy.

she needs to be freed, she

needs our help.

tomorrow they'll all move on

to the next

thing in the news

that gets their undies in a bunch.

waddling home

while clutching their pearls.