A woman can’t simply be happy. A woman can’t search for it either. For her happiness either just came or didn’t no matter where she went. Such w...s the female poet’s dilemma. While she pushed herself to greater heights, there was always something weighing her down, dragging her below the earth no matter how hard she tried. It seemed to her like an odd paradox—the more intense the search, the farther happiness moved away. It had been this way ever since the incident in front of her home. It took. I planned to head up to the second floor to relax and watch the traffic move past my window.Yes, I had heard the background noise, but it got automatically processed and it fell into the 'not a threat'category, so of no real interest. When I climbed the stairs, I knew what the noise was. It was not a fan with a bad bearing, or a bird sitting on the air vent outside chirping. It Sylvia and Peter screwing in my bed.Since they didn't seem to notice me, I leaned against the corner of the bathroom. More

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