Don’t Deny a Thing

You may awaken
one morning
to find your
front lawn
occupied by
demonstrators,
marching around
on long
green unmowed
grass, carrying
signs:

“Even Narcissists
Need To Do
Yardwork,” and
“Sloth Is a
Cardinal Sin,” and
“Your Wife
Deserves Better.”

You may cower
beneath your
pillow,
hoping a few
more minutes of
somnolence
will take the
sharp edge
off the
shame,

or maybe you
cobble together
a sign of
your own,
with duct tape and
cardboard:

“I promise
to be better
tomorrow.”

Or maybe you
panic plot an
exit strategy,
to a place
where no one
knows you.

Maybe, just maybe,
consider this:

Put on a robe,
walk outside,
smile at your accusers.

Invite them
in for a cup of
tea and some of
those chocolate chip
cookies.

Sit with them
awhile,
chat them up.

Don’t deny
a thing.

You may find
them to be
quite harmless
after awhile.

After all,
you’re made of
starlight and
eternity,
you’ve got a
fan club of
angels.

Why are you
worried about
a few protesters?