The places I end up
where I don’t belong.
Tonight it is a homeowner’s association meeting
for a house I barely own.

I have come to cast my vote on a matter
that concerns me not at all.
The cost of removing and replanting
trees and shrubbery at the entrance
to the neighborhood.

A subject that will be tabled before I can even vote on it.
Because that’s how committees work.
One person does a lot of work on a proposal.
One person asks a question.
Another person gets offended
at the very need for the proposal
in the first place.
Yet another person claims to be able to get the job done better and cheaper.
And the issue is tabled for six more months.

My contribution is that I have brought cupcakes.
Four get eaten.

A few other unpopular ideas are discussed.

One man’s request to build a pool shed and a patio roof goes uncontested.

I leave with
a burden of cupcakes
and the same existential questions.
Why am I here?
What strange chameleon-like quality
do I possess that people continue
to welcome me in to places I ought not be?