Sponge Bob

I went and stood in line and cried and voted and bumped fist with the only other sister in line
I felt like a real revolutionary
Then I went home and waited for the revolution
I am still waiting for it
Meanwhile trying to figure out how many more things I can make with ground turkey
Paying the electric bill later than I should have
Feeling relieved yet trapped each time I drive up to this tiny house in the suburbs.
I am still saying no to morning sex before rushing off to long days at work
In neighborhoods that I worry may never see the revolution (or is it Revolution?).
I still feel guilty when I hide my IPod and lock my doors when stuck at a light near the bus stop.
I spend too much time at the gym and staring in the mirror at stretch marks
and not enough time writing.
So something about the sound of my children watching Sponge Bob Square Pants on this
Saturday morning, while I tried to gather myself out of bed under my mortgage paid roof
for another Saturday of laundry, treadmills, and rented movies,
made me realize that THE revolution has not happened in my head.
I thought about how on NPR I had heard that Sponge Bob was the H.N.I.C.’s favorite show,
And I thought about all his speeches on CNN, and how many times I’ve SAT on my couch mesmerized ,
before getting up to wash dishes.
I walked by my Daddy’s picture on the bookshelf when I finally stretched out of bed and remembered
that The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.