I bought the ugliest curtains
I could find—so ugly that no one wanted them
even on sale. But they cheer me up
every time I walk into my bedroom,
for there is some pitiful beauty in them,
or so I tell myself, because truth be told,
I didn’t do it out of some insatiable sense
of altruism—they were the cheapest,
that’s all. But doesn’t it feel better
to see yourself as an altruist
rather than a miser?