you appear to be a ship that's breaking up.

A whirling dervis



running






around trying


to




make





sure




all the windows are closed
Is this how you imagine the post show?





More of the same?







Things have changed in your world














except your mind

i created the tempest
gave it life
and then called it my Mother

The Battle

my actions
are seperate
from a divided and stormy mind













I


learn




that





moments before

a storm


there is a feeling of abandonment.





despair

Mother Teresa knew.







It is an error; a grand error









The mind battles on



and


my actions
know.

The Saboteur

the saboteur







is ready


coiffed, erect. Hands neatly folded in front









a smile ready--for anything you have.

I have been asked many questions in my life about poetry, religion, life, and I have given precisely the same number of answers, but I have never, I repeat, never, satisfied a single interlocuter. Why? Because all questioning is a way of avoiding the real answer, which, as Zen tells us, is really known already. Every man is enlightened, but wishes he wasn't. Every man knows he must love his enemies, and sell all he has and give to the poor, but he doesn't wish to know it--so he asks questions.



R.H. BLYTH

you have so many roads








love is sent out, misdirected and always stuck in traffic






drumming fingers on the dash
anxious and final

why am I

drawn to the broken
the foggy
the inconsistent




at home in their dreams
stuck on their porches
and frozen by their fears

Why am I

standing near
analyzing their pieces
kissing their shard's
and making promises I don't believe

Who am I

Sacred Tenets of Egoic Relationships

Being treated specially and made to feel special is a good thing.Having a special partner is a good thing.Other people can make me happy.Some people can give me more than others.It matters what people think of me.It matters how people treat me.I can be treated unfairly.Making sure I am not mistreated is a very important skill.It is right and good for me to point out the errors in how people treat me and tell themhow to correct those errors.Other people make me feel things.Other people can attack and injure me and they have.Because of the bad things they have done, other people deserve my anger.I am honestly angry at the bad things they did. My anger at them is not really displacedanger at myself for my own "sins."My actions are caused by what other people do to me.I never attack first.People have certain roles they are supposed to fulfill in relation to my needs and myhappiness.If they fail in these roles I have to feel bad about them.My picture of them is wisely informed by all of their past failures in fulfilling their role.In reacting to their present actions it is valid for me to respond to the entireconstellation of their past actions that resemble the present action in any way.People owe me because of how much I have given them.Giving to another means loss, sacrifice, and needs to be done very cautiously.The way I was treated in the past continues to be relevant in the present.My past should have treated me better and I can prove it by my achievements in thepresent.I know who my partner is, maybe not perfectly, but roughly.My partner's personality matters.My partner's material circumstance and place in society matters.My partner's body-its sex, shape, weight, age, clothing, etc.-matters.If someone can meet my needs I should be with them, if they cannot or will not I should leave.Knowing how to get people to love me-through giving gifts, having an attractivepersonality, body and life situation, and appropriately guilting them-is a crucial skill in life.My attraction to certain individuals holds the promise of my future happiness.My attraction to them is a gift that should make them feel good about themselves. It is not an attack.Conflicts are best resolved by a good memory of the conflict's exact history, goodbargaining skills and a willingness to compromise.



Robert Perry

You can't handle any dissidents



everyone on board plays your music





you will listen to this
because you want me--comfortable in a seat


Drinks served with your propaganda playing forward

You are a politician

a diplomat

a performer




I am malicious here

privy from too much searching and understanding
but you are also a conductor whose calling a loaded train to your attention

I was on for a stop

Residence

we sit here
creating anxiety


We swing our legs
drum our fingers
and busy ourselves
with an over read book and a over pronounced word




we sit here.

You keep it.

You keep it
holding tight--burying
while you eat sushi and play scrabble
watch movies and listen to the rain
suddenly you grimace
and then it fills you
bulges and presses your mind
it becomes you
all of you
pouring on everything you see
you keep it.

Found your tiny city







surprised


to see how easily I could exploit your ornamental resources











No choice but to quickly traverse your cultural Continent




surpised






to find nothing clear of relevance








should
I
return
towards exploitation?





should I leave

for years


as

mining begins?

will you let me.

what is dignity?

what is it


it is a coat in the summer to feel uncomfortable

You are attached to their loneliness




No documentation needed.

photography

is only a tool



that should not be corrupted by your ideas.







is like sex


used
to verify knowing


not a residing place to hoist your flag
and open your mail.






is like philosophy



pushed out and examined.

it is only a tool that through its stark consistency

through its seamlessness

through your held tongue

your silence










you advance your purpose.





it is only a tool.

I don't like the Leverage

I don't like the leverage

no evidence to push in front of you, and then watch you try and see around it's pile. I then fold my arms.

no boundries for you not to cross while I lob rocks in your direction, and hide my hands. I stand teasing you.


I want the weight

I want to tell you

--what I want

and own every sentence.

That mind---that brain *fairly
loaded with Poe's Tales
and Shakespeare's rails

books with huge tomes


words from many tombs

Divinity cross
and your legs crossed
linen pants avoids a stain

a soiled body
keeps order in the brain.

I can only ask that you don' t fall in love with me.




it is a nusiance




it becomes an endless fireworks display that makes you miss work.

The Dispenser

fear dispensed


but

the invulnerability




excuses that doesn't leave home.

the circle gets smaller




the conversations gets tighter




the moments


even finer

I can feel your heartbeat and your accentuation.


your sigh and your magnitude of nothing.




the circle is getting smaller

my vision even finer



I am beginning to see you.

The Cultural Mountebank

the cultural mountebank













surrounded themselves with a vast array of art and music.



the offerings


Artemisia Gentileschi



Sweet Honey and the Rock






bestowed a grand memory







all held in their hand; easily dispensable, but not swallowed





















what does it all mean if it can't be applied


























marble floors


and echoes











My mind a minimalist





in usuable space













avoiding the cultural charlatan

I am a conductor
with a torn topcoat





a nomad
a cryer

ice cold to sneezes

and pleasantries.










confused,

understood,

angry and merry.







and my subscription is paid up
something is wrong.



Above all I am determined to see.

Terry's legs were crossed and pushed up against the glass facing Monroe st. I stepped in and

slide down next to her.

"You're late."

"I am a slow walker."
"Also an idiot."
"I know, a well crafted one." I said turning my cell phone off.
"Carved from a wonderful pile of shit."

"Yes of course." I said now looking at the menu behind me, and then back at her as she picked at a muffin. "A pile flown in from Savile Row."
"You wish, why did you cut your cell off?"
"What, and have someone disturb us? I'm not taking that chance."
"We're not in a hotel."
She smirked.
" I can't imagine what it is like to work here and have people like you come in."
She pulled at her hair and leaned on her elbows closer to the window.
"Did you want anything?" I asked standing up;she shook her head, and I headed to the front. I ordered a mozzarella and tomato sandwich, and watched as a young woman's hips shook slicing through a loaf of bread.

"I'm going to die M I realize that now."
"What? I think we all have a shot at that goal." I said again seating close to her.
"Isn't this a joke to you?"
"This sandwich? Yea 7 bucks with a bag of chips."
"No this." She said pointing with her eyes out into the street. "Look , look out there."
"Where?"
"Outside."
"What about it?"
"The people, the busyness."
I settled my eyes for a moment. My shoulders bowed forward as if I was watching television, and Terry was forcing me to wait for the good part. People careened back and forth, and the west's setting sun bathed cars in it's last remaining light. All the things that I have seen before. But I made an effort of trying to see things differently. Is it in the way these people walk; their accelerated pace and thousand mile stares. Again this is commonplace.
"The city life." I said softly. It was a common response, and I knew she wanted more recognition, but I was tired.

You are a spoiled

you know that don't you?





a huffer and a puffer
with no house to *blow



after midnight


you negotiate
with





your sighs


and your carbon dioxide



oh dear queen

your face red and pouting





you are still lovely

who is Ali Farka Toure
who are you


I have doubled back


cheap sunglasses and a pretty dress.


silent
but crashing.

The Dramatists

they will cancel each other out with all of their sighs,their paragraphs and their weight.


Oh


their bluster and their threats; projecting a pocket full of nothing while riding the busy wave of anything, and then returning back to their sighs, their paragraphs and their weight.

It is impossible to believe they wasted this go around with such a rendition.







This go-round that is on a stage,
that is on a stage,
that is on a stage,
that is not even there.

In their dreams


they even careen.


Their eyes open and their sentence continue.
The box tightens,the accusers return. The movie speeds up at the darting of their eyes.





that ungraceful illusion streaming out of their head

The Dramatist

I need room







I need more room to love you
the dramatists have filled the great dinner party,
their hands surrounding glasses and staring the way they do, at things that don't matter.



oh they are superbly dress. Their ideas floating above their heads for all to see--the darker ones are ignored, but the comfortable ones,polished and vindicated.


The directives are always hidden in the hand(the one the rope shakes from)


The Dramatist


(incomplete)

I must of given you 30,000 words




thirty thousand



I have explained myself and tighten my philosophy
I have stayed centered and used a different road.



I have been clearly recognized.








to me









I have stopped one train to wait on another
your not understanding me

The Big Empty tries to claim her

every moment seems new

she chases cicadas at night

drives erractic and smiles at me
the suit fits tight.
she fills her wine glass unsure of the protocal



"Are you serious? " She says

in a
A suit that doesn't quite fit


she is everywhere
and the
The Big Empty tends to its pit







her uneveness
this uneveness

We must clarify ourselves

what are you doing with my love

you are staring at the sun
and missing its reason













what are you doing with my love

you are dwelling in the rain
and forgetting the season

Do we know what love is?


is it the final question

I had a conditional idea
but now its unconditional

Am I naive?

I create a rule and watch HS break it,
then
lovingly twist
and






turned it





I allow her to do this instead of the ego. I have let her in.

I needed a new idea another way to live

A superstar; hard to resist.

so it seems when you are loving; when you are finding new clues to who you are. Bringing illusions to the truth.

Do we know what love is?
Because they love me--they do, all of them. Looking to see where it comes from I'm sure.


"is it my sex?" They ask themselves

still offering, spilling and unsure of their posts

I have created this atmosphere as the dictator to the unknown land.
A fucking fumbling isolationist who jumps on stage with an idea.



I have drawn those too distraction by their own discoveries.










all of us looking to understand what we already are.

she straighten her skirt and laid prone in the grass
I slowly positioned myself next to her
The park lights poured onto a pitchers mound and gave us ambiance.

I last saw the Dipper 23 years ago at my grandparents house in Michigan.
A jar of fireflies cradled in my hand and a pocket full of misgivings to quickly reach for.
here it is being pointed out to me again and I try to get comfortable.

"When things don't look the way I expect them to, it's time to stop questioning and start trusting."











Gary R. Renard "Your Immortal Reality"

but you have

could never give that up









the fresh flowers and house slippers.
freshly squeezed and its stainless sanctuary.


could never give it up for the coarse world and its beautiful cousin the unknown








*but you have

why must you know?
sounds like my old God

So many
and you must know

you must know who comes to lay an offering.

You must know whose mortar you are continuing to loosen
you must know whose life you are sacking


the allegiance destroys ideas
sucking magnesium from the bones
sounds like my old God

she sits across from me with every apeture closed but one.

Should I be?
Should I be honored that the *Queen is dreaming of me?

I am hovering in the shadows of your court



Oh Great Queen
shot from many angles
admired in all of them.

The *elaborate one

I am a mere fodder in your abbey
one who just smells your smoke not kisses its source
walk on me dear jewelled one, with your turned ankle and your yellow buckle shoes
so I can at least feel your touch.

yield to the willow
all the loathing
all the desire of your heart.

-BASHO

Let it go







your higher self doesn't give a fuck
about the constructions you have created in your life




your ideal marriage
Audi station wagon
Gap pocket T
your church







It is not looking to oversee the groove you are carving
the theology handcuffs you are looking to secure


your 401k
your resentment








your personal evolution is all it cares about

all it loves

But your big brain has begun

with its

distraction
stuck in books and classes that stave off the inevitable.



The I am doing




Your claviger does not care about your disputes only your submission






let it go.

your foyer is admirable

i need to step into
another room


please
a quieter one,
a comfortable one
one devoid of sticky substances and apologies

How many times can you take my coat?
How many times can you ask me about the weather?

please
allow me your hospitality
let me into your other rooms.

i saw her yesterday














i wasn't looking for her.
only continuing to forget



i did not see her eyes or her neatly blemished face.


i didn't have too


her walk was unmistakable




An elegant cadence, shoulders steady, her purse twisting under her forearm. This walk which started us up, becomes--years later, the last page of a book that won't turn.



i don't want her anymore





i studied her back and watched her pull further ahead into a mix of people.

She crossed a street and into an office building.

it is

strange

your photographic tambour still seems perfect
breathing just right
sensibility and mood prickly
is it all dramatic?
is it an elaborate comedy?

You playing many parts.







Ah but this verse impels this along

no distractions




no Poincare Conjecture


no ice on Mercury




There is candy in the Cosmos





no distractions
discover yourself.

HOLD

hold tight





Hold on

Hold. It's a lot of careening and pushing. Then there is aweing and sighing.
There are these moments where I am standing on the lawn in my barefeet.









A smile is getting away from me.
I can hear enjoyment in my voice.








For some reason I can hear enjoyment in my voice.


Hold on.

Hold onto things because you are.
My bags are packed
and I sit on an ideling bus.
I am safe
but I still

hold on.
I am someone who now releases everything

but now I hold on


I hold on because you are.

She needs herself to grow

She needs your love to grow

She needs love to grow.
no to the I just told you
no to the counterfeit card,trip to Queensland and your dinner party.








china from Wedgewood










There is a lot to see when someone sits across from you in a tub


her words filling it.


and then matching the notes from a song with her world



respond


with no weight



a touch



please hold onto nothing.


She needs herself to grow.

I have discovered that when two people are face with a situation that requires one of them to make a sacrificial response, the person with the most belief in a transcendence system can make the sacrifice. What this person will continue to discover that his/her metaphysical back up makes this no sacrifice at all; this support just continues to render the closed system useless.


The person who, being really on the Way, falls upon hard times in the world, will not as a consequence, turn to that friend who offers him refuge and comfort and encourages their old self to survive. Rather, he will seek out someone who will faithfully and inexorably help him to risk himself, so that he may endure the difficulty and pass courageously through it. Only to the extent that a person exposes himself over and over again to annihilation, can that which is indestructible be found within them. In this daring lies dignity and the spirit of true awakening.

Karlfried Durckheim

That quote has become a reality for me. We see these zen quotes,koans, and aphorisms, but it doesn't mean anything until we start seeing in our own lives how these words become uttered. They have to be through an experience the person saying them was having. That is not as simple as it sounds. It takes a hovering we must do;everything that happens to us--at every moment, must be observed closely as an opportunity of self discovery.

We cannot project

We have to take it.

Take whatever is happening to us as an opportunity for us to demonstrate compassion. Regardless if it's positive or negative, it is only an opportunity. In the end our vision will become clearer and closed system sacrifices can be made without worry.

One thing

One thing I have noticed about some women is how leaky their thoughts are. They stand guarding doors firmly to get their point across on something, but behind them raiders are entering through a plethora of other hatches.
They do not believe in foreplay with anything, and just find themselves sitting in pools of drippy sexual ideas about themselves.

These women have the structure of a relationship down pat; the business of running it is in safe hands, but the problem is their minds it has to be clearly monitored(if evolution is not allowed) or they will be obsessed over the idea of freedom and make moves in all direction, and then out of fear of this attention immediately try shutting them all down

Hearts will be broken.

K.I.M.

The problem with having a relationship is in the idea of inclusivity; once it is inclusive that is when all the problems begin. You are aware of this I am absolutley positive, whether unconciously or conciously a crumbeling begins on the celing above us once we close ourselves into a room with our person or thing; we huddle close to it and make it our everything and the world begins to attack our ass for lack of concentration.

Nothing in the worlds room is what it seems. Ever since I started to seriously study this macabre atmosphere I started to unconciously feel like I was in some multi billion square foot fun house. Floors letting below me and then quickly returning to keep me engaged. Mirrors that distort my shape and keep me staring at myself.

and then relationships with the same formula and less than happy results. You meet someone you laugh with them, they seem cool, the sex works, everybody is on there best behaviour. So you get involved with them or even get married and then all your roads lead to them; you are standing under an umbrella in a monsoon asking them how there day was.

Relationships are not residing places or destinations they are opportunities to see yourself better regardless of what we call negative or positive experience. Once those experiences are properly digested we continue. Moving on, keeping those who have more to show us and growing from those who don't.

No time to covet or anchor down with someone, because the shit storm is waiting to catch you sleeping on the job.

KIM keep it moving.

Hey you





I came across something after talking to you yesterday. When I said "Sex is no longer needed." I struggled to define what those words meant(the statement comes from a place I don't know and I have to sit and concentrate to piece it together) so I have and decided:

There are two reasons to have sex in my opinion. One is to experience an idea you have in a phyiscal form; you feel so so very close to someone so you need to transformed this phyiscally-- you believe, for it to be real. The second is just based on images; the bodies make up, the walk, clothing, status, national orgin etc.

When you and I had sex in the very beginning it was saturated with a mix of the two(our own marriages of course set this tone), as time went on between us we were successful at gaining closeness in philosophical ways; in turn we would evolve immensely. Sex then isn't a expression of closeness, because we have mastered it into mentality, a form that even if we were on separate planets we would still get this relationships importance.

If we choose to have sex now it then becomes where it first started; something based on what you are wearing that night/day for example a lovely summer dress with draw strings, tight zcavarrici jeans, thigh h...Ahem. In that case it happens just based on how attracted I am to you physically. Sounds strange huh?

What I discover through this process is that you have stolen back love from sex(wasn't really there anyway) and put it in its place--the mind, and sex just becomes a more of an enhancement of expression; a simple appetizer, an extension of an idea that is either taken or left on the tray.

That idea can only be love or the many definitions of fear.



MER

ME

just watching him
his fuckin' pacing; his anticipation and expeditious words.






She is an astounding artist. This I recognize.


an unconscious approach
I helped unearth

but she enmeshed him with this wonderful ability.


the stupid one




and her fuckin' sensitive grain.


has him spouting inane forecasts as he lays aside all our discretion and then empties our cool

the deficient one gets in my way.

I once dated a woman not realizing what it was that surrendered my attention. She wasn't exactly witty, clever or kind for that matter.
Months turned into more months and I continued to stand at her door with wilted flowers and such. Then I would find myself sitting on her couch, standing in her kitchen and prone in her bed. Ah...it felt strange to journey through intimacy when you clearly have no idea what draws you into a person. but through my continued and often times annyoing behavior to know, it would slowly dawned on me as I sat there once again on her floral covered sofa.
It was her ass, it was her legs that kept me fixated. Um...yes it was.
This discovery would come a year (or more) in between other relationships that I had .
I would still keep coming back to her, in the interim like an unsolved murder with more fibers to present. But now I would stand up(might have been after sex) and explained my findings to her with great enthusiasm.
She would never talk to me again, but just like finding the purpose of space's dark matter I was fulfilled.
I had not only discovered something about being a man, I had found accountability for the future, because if I know going into a relationship that it is based on physical attributes I either stick to that summation and decide if that is going to be enough for me or I seek out more weight in relationships, regardless I will seek out substance and not kid myself when some woman with an ass you can stack cd's on begins talking to me at a bustop.

I was thinking that the only reason her answer was wrong is because I had already made up my decision. How else can I ask someone their opinion and then be perplexed when they give me something I don't like.(exact opposite of what I'm thinking) Sounds like I just typed a whole lot of confusion, but damn this makes sense to me now.

I hang out with this early man on occasion called John McCuddy. I love verbally sparring and can’t get enough of the open looks Cud’s depressing, dire, and cynical state of our current society gives me. We do laugh a lot so it’s not like it’s raining every time I see him, just cloudy with peaks of sunshine.

Tuesday I came across him as he sat leaning forward on a park bench entertaining a pigeon. He dropped the last remaining crumbs of popcorn and then quickly began rolling quarters over his fingers. He started in as soon as my ass could feel the metal slats.
“It just don’t make any sense that people are walking around with these cell phones bolted to their heads. Who the hell are they talking to? Does it make any sense that you are calling people you are on your way to see?” He began flipping the quarter with his thumb and then slowly put it in his lapel pocket. “What purpose does it serve?”
“It’s efficient, Cud. You can tell people where to meet you if things change, bus is late. You can tell your wife to fucking start thawing the pot roast you on your way." I said studying his graying hair before sliding down on the bench. "Cud that language is played out when it comes to downing the technology advancements we've made as a society. Next you’re going to say we didn’t have this in...fill in decade. ”
“It’s just corporational distraction to load their goddamn pocket books and keep you from thinking on your own. What happens when we are left alone with ourselves; able to settle down, you know?” He said studying the ground.
“Ah Cud…”
“Think about it. If we are left alone more we find more magic; we rearrange our priorities and do more of what we love, but now we are either buying their crap or your working for these companies pushing their crap.”
“It’s all been said, Cud.”
“Don’t you see it’s a damn distraction to keep us from our purpose.
“It’s just a cell phone.

She was supposedly sexually harassed. I didn’t know her name, because it was her very first day, but as long as I’ve been working here I’ve never seen someone harassed at this speed. I’m mean, I even wait a month to a year at testing the degree at which I can be rude. But here this woman being shown where the coffee pots is; how to use the microwave, the inner components of the filtered water, finds herself being exposed to the office most unusual employee. Here he pulls an apple from the refrigerator walks up to her and says “Those are the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen.” Silence rung out like a church bell. “I was raised on a farm in a small town in Pennsylvania. My family and I Went on to other agricultural products after being crowded out, and then we wound up watching it go the way of the dust bowl.” He continued.
Because we were clearly not expecting something like this on a Monday morning, I who was standing at the vending machine joined in with the others and found ourselves standing like chess pieces. He sighed and seem to reflect fondly of a by gone era, by a small grin and the rubbing of his head.
“I think that was very inappropriate.” The manager says as the victim turned away and headed near the door.
“I don’t mean it in a sexually harassing way. I just couldn’t help but reminded of my days on the farm as kid. All this processed milk nowadays. I’ve seen it a few times…”
“But you just insulted this woman on her very first day. She hasn’t even taken her coat off.” I added. Staring at them now and discovering that he was not clearly off the mark.
“What ever happen to the power of observation?”

Act one

There is this woman I work(Madeline) with who is the star of a very engaging play. I hurry to work to listen to it unfold, from the manager,people in the lunch room, friends and of course her.
The actors are played by her boyfriend(Sample) also the father of her daughter, her older and ailing parents, brother(Ira) and (Marble) sister-in-law.


The very first act I came in on(what truly made me believe that this would be epic and number 1 in her canon) was eleven months before the birth of her daughter. She had just moved out of her parents home and into her first apartment. She was 26 and it appeared had not lost the fevor of constant hours of sex, its repercussions, poorly made drinking decisions and not paying rent for that matter.
Ah
the stories that it brought to the stage. The first month was began with sex with a friend/acquaintance/friend after a all night party that ended with a police chase and the getting rid of very pricey and quite good weed. What hurt more was that it was a complete misunderstanding and our heroine could happily continue with would be considered a raucous tale of drinks,finding a new dealer,drunks and a disatourious train ride into work( she fell asleep on the train into work and woke up minus her purse).


Throughout the week there would be more of the same. Dick checks in cars and resident complaints of zoo sounding sex from her place. Surprisingly she would show up for work. Of course she needed few hours to find her rhythm,stapler and desk. But she would contribute well. Delving out information on her weekend adventure slowly. Giving different version to different ears. Those who could handle clean all the way down to the salacious, for people like myself who stood with popcorn and twizzlers.

As the month moved on and the next one began it had come to her attention that she had paid her rent last month. She would arrive at the conclusion that there will be no more of that.

Her landlord fresh with complaints about the noise from her apartment decided on her side. money wouldn't be a good exchange anymore maybe if he could just change his status and do more than just fix some of her applainces.

Before any negotiations could begin, both of them must have remembered that not only did he have a girlfriend but she also lived down in the apartment with him(she was very abrasive and also a brown belt in Tao kwon Do. I could not understand how this was constantly over looked). This would take a revised plan.

ok at this point we finally reach the pinnacle, of this act. One evening or afternoon, as this story is disjointingly told our protagonist is engaged in her usual mutual oral exploration(stolen from defunct moonlighting) and a massive malleate (hopefully I am using this word correctly)started in on the door. The sound was accompanied by "I know your in there(s) " and continued with even more intense pounding.

The friend/acquaintance became a little nervous. Our heroine tried to calm him down by forcing him into the bathroom and through a nailed (bricked over) window(they had to stop) while she headed to the now mangled, held on by a 70 year old frame door. There stood an ex friend--but more than friend, from Miami ready to claim her back(Sample) No fisticuffs were thrown as somehow he was twarted by seeing her sweaty and naked.

The Landlords owner would come up with a better plan and realize they could make more money as a condo.

She would leave

She would become pregnant move home to her parents where her brother and sister-in law also reside and chalk up her little foray as a slight hiccup as we await Act II