Sometimes I wish I could rewind to a less complicated minute
and decide to do the things that were momentarily easier.
Integrity is an overrated virtue,
an artifice of identity
that leaves
no room
for the push and pull of the relationships that compose me,
of which I am composed.
Integrity perhaps mattered more in another time,
when people were less mobile,
faster tied to the few they knew.
I am guilty of nostalgia.
I seek truth and consistency that I know are impossible,
and that matter less when I’ll soon just be picking up and going
anyway.