The Myth of Choice
I choose love. I choose
recognition. I choose en
gagement. I choose world
travel. I choose to be ex
actly who I am, within the
bounds of logic and reason
able law, with no repurcuss
ions. But how many people
can I love at once? Or even
in a lifetime, individually? It
cannot be just one other per
son because I’ve lived and
there have been a few. And
for what do I want to be rec
ognized? Or how? By my
face, my gait, my shape, my
occupation(s), my preoccu
pation(s)? My so-called mis
takes? And what kind of en
gagement am I choosing?
Sex? Small talk? Convers
ations that go well into the
night while we’re all stoned
or high or drunk or coffee’d
up sober? Or do I simply
mean affianced? And where
in the world am I traveling?
Anyplace else than I’ve been
before? With what means?
Sometimes we have no choice,
or we don’t have many. Isn’t
freedom lovely? Define free.
Better yet, define good. What
are the qualities of a decent per
son, my grandiose aspiration (to
be one, to have one, to know
many). And what’s bad?
Name a bad quality that is
also tantalizing to otherwise
decent people. What are
my options? Well. Choice
being lovely and all, and
mine, is it a pickle or an
honor to get to choose
the qualities that mean
decency and those that
equal evil? I see three
paths before me. I pack
my bags filled with chains
and locks (their keys have
